


The Last Magician

by Margaret Ann (Manderson)



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Coma, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Gen, Illnesses, Maltraum, Novel, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 69,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5696602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manderson/pseuds/Margaret%20Ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the years following the defeat of Kefka, Terra and her companions have built normal lives for themselves. However, a strange new threat has appeared, and it is up to them to defeat it--and evil--once and for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Memory

Terra sat astride her chocobo in the field. Waving grasses surrounded her, mounted by a reddish sky. Smoke rose from the forest in front of her, and, when she turned, she saw the stone castle on the hill. “Home, finally,” the words came unbidden from her mouth, and she spurred her beast onwards.

The castle was hauntingly familiar, but something in the weathered granite told Terra she’d never seen it before. She galloped into the courtyard and slid out of the saddle to the dusty flagstones. “Darling, I’m back!” she cried, running into the building.

A man caught her, his circlet flashing gold around his tan forehead. “Love, please hide. The Horde is coming, and you must get to safety.”

“Come with me, then, darling! Or let me come with you!”

“I must protect our home; that is my most important duty. If I must confront the Horde on my own and battle their sorcerer it is because the cowards fear to face us themselves.” He cupped her cheek with one callused hand. “Do not fear, my love. This battle will take but a moment, and we shall rejoice with our victory.”

Something deep within Terra screamed that this battle would only end in sorrow, but she nodded. “Darling, please be careful. I shall wait in the secret chamber for you, as long as need be.”

In an eye blink, the queen found herself hiding in the basement chamber, a guttering candle on the table the only light. A few women and young children huddled nearby. Somehow Terra knew most of the boys and men were upstairs battling the fiends of the Horde. A pang clenched in her chest as she watched a little girl cling to her mother. _I wish I could give my darling a son_. They’d tried, but ten years later nothing had come from their relationship. _I guess humans and Espers are just too incompatible._

A piece of Terra knew that was wrong, and that piece screamed that she herself was a half-Esper. Those inner protests failed to stir her heart. She sighed.

There was a sudden crash, and humans in monstrous helms flooded the chamber. Screams echoed around her, and the copper scent of blood filled the air. Above the clamor the queen heard someone shout, “The Horde!”

Their backs to the wall, her people had no chance. They bunched around her, taking blow after blow for her honor, crying for her to try to escape. _They love me_. The thought flitted through Terra’s mind, followed by, _They know they’re doomed_.

Bloodied corpses piled up around her, leaving spots on the wall, on the furniture, on her dress. These attackers had no desire for rape or plunder, only destruction. One by one she watched them slay her friends and subjects, their names she knew but she didn’t know how. She reached out for a stray child, _Railin_ , she thought, but a Horde in a horned mask snatched the boy away and slit his throat. “What if that was your child?” she screamed, her stomach churning.

“You’d do the same to him, witch,” the soldier rasped.

“Do mind your manners, knight,” a slinky voice came from the stairwell. The crowd of Horde melted towards the walls, leaving the bodies of the slain where they lay. Terra realized she was the last one standing. “It is unkind to call this fair lady a witch. After all, she is the queen of a lost people, and deserves fair treatment as such.”

She glared. “I don’t need your help. I want my people back!”

The sorcerer smiled wickedly. “You could join them, your Highness, if you wished.”

Terra spat in his face.

A trickle curved down the hook of his nose, but his smile remained. Before she could react, he cupped her chin in his hand and squeezed. “Perhaps I was being too generous, your Highness. I was going to let you see your people and your husband, but you spurn my kindness.” He threw her to the ground.

“Darling?” she asked softly. “What have you done to my darling?” Wincing, she pushed herself up, _death, death_ echoing wildly in her head. Her stomach knotted and twisted.

The sorcerer’s smile grew colder, and he began to chant in a steady, solemn voice. Two of the Horde grabbed the queen roughly and held her. “What have you done to my husband?” she screamed.

The laughter of the Horde around her and the words in her head dulled everything, filling her ears with aural cotton. She saw the flash of power leaving the sorcerer’s hand as he mouthed the final words. As if from outside herself, Terra saw her body turn to stone. The sorcerer leaned close to the statue’s ear and whispered, “You spat on my mercy; I spit on your pain. You shall feel only grief and pain in this world, and never can you escape from this cage in which I’ve imprisoned you. You’ll never be with Odin now, nor any of his brethren or bastards.” The sorcerer kissed the statue’s lips, then left.

A tear trickled down one marble cheek.

Behind her, someone said, “My pain shall be your pain, sister queen.”

Terra turned and saw the glowing form of the ancient queen behind her. “What?”

“You shall lose one you treasure and turn to stone, able only to weep for the one you lost. Never shall you join that one in death. Just as the murderer of my people and my love pronounced my fate, so I, too, pronounce yours, Queen of Figaro.”

“Wait!” she called as the world faded around her. “Who will it be?”

“Your fate is mine.” The words reached her ears as if diffused through fog, and she opened her eyes to her own bedchamber.


	2. The Suitor

Edgar, King of Figaro, stood on the parapet staring out at the shifting sea of sand below. Its color mirrored his hair and skin, and his intensely blue eyes glimmered like the precious gems on his gilded steel breastplate. He held himself statue still, praying that, in such a state, none could find him to discuss political matters.

All too soon he heard the tapping of stiff boots on the flagstone steps behind him, and he sighed. _Damn_ , he thought, turning around. _I guess the worst that could happen is they tell me I have to get back into that itchy robe and overdone crown_.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” the runner cried. He half-bowed, half-doubled over from lack of breath in the still desert air, then straightened. “There is someone to see you, your Majesty.”

“Who is it, Reynolds?” he replied wearily.

“A suitor has arrived to plead for your hand in marriage.”

The king’s ears perked up. “Is she pretty?”

“The most beautiful we’ve yet encountered, your Majesty.”

Visions of buxom brunettes in short, tight dresses danced through his mind. “Where is she?” he choked.

“In the east tower, your Majesty. Will you be requiring an escort?”

“No, thank you. I know my way about the castle.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Reynolds bowed again and took his leave. Edgar bent, retrieved his silk cape, and pinned it to his breastplate. He made a parting glance at the desert, smiled, and left.

He took the stone steps to the top of the east tower two at a time, whistling. The winding staircase seemed longer than he remembered. _Must be the anticipation. I must smell like an overworked chocobo_ , he huffed, _but she’s waiting_ ; and the siren song lured him on.

After what seemed like an eternity, the ornate wooden door appeared before him. He threw it open. It startled the singer, a young blonde woman whose silk gown hugged a broad-shouldered and -hipped figure. Pale hands held a lute, her right still poised mid-strum. The pair stared at each for a long moment; thoughts struggled to force their way through Edgar’s stunned mind. The woman recovered first. “Your Majesty, I beg your forgiveness for my rudeness,” she said, standing and curtsying. “You appear out of breath; please, use my handkerchief.”

“Thanks.” He mopped his brow with the square of cloth, then held it up for inspection. “Lacy and delicate,” he said, smiling, “like its owner.” He handed it back to her.

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

“Please, sit.” He sat across from her and nodded towards her instrument. “That was lovely music. An angel must’ve taught you.”

She looked at her hands. “My mother did...before she passed.”

“My most sincere condolences for your loss, M’lady,” he said, mentally cursing himself for his choice of words.

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

“Please, let there be no formalities between us. Call me Edgar. Now, what brings you to my sandy home?”

“Your Maj—forgive me, Edgar, I came with a request.” She wriggled her toes in the pearl-beaded satin slippers that peeked out from beneath the hem of her dress. In a small voice she said, “I would like it very much if you would make me part of your harem.”

The king blinked. “My what?”

“Your harem.” She blushed. “A group of young women a man keeps until he decides which would make the most suitable wife. Every noble I’ve met had or has had one.”

The king paused a moment, thinking. “No...” he said, “no, I’m sure I don’t have one of those.” He laughed.

“You don’t?”

“No. I was planning on meeting the right girl and marrying her, not collecting a bunch and choosing one. Doesn’t seem quite fair to take all the best girls for myself—how would I ever decide?”

“Oh...” Edgar winced at the disappointment in her voice. “I suppose your Majesty is right.” She stood and curtsied, then retrieved her lute. “I apologize for wasting your time.”

“No, wait! Don’t go,” he said frantically, his heart wrenching inside him. “You haven’t wasted my time at all. Honest,” he added, seeing her skeptical look. “See, I haven’t met the right girl yet. At least, I hadn’t until now.” He stared deep into her blue eyes, and wondered where he’d seen them before. For the first time, he noticed the veil that hid her face from nose to chin. _How strange I didn’t see it before_ , he thought. Aloud, he said, “Please, M’lady, tell me your name and remove your veil so I can gaze upon my fiancée.”

The woman nodded and took off the filmy fabric, revealing a masculine nose and a square jaw. “My name is Sabin Rene Figaro, your Majesty.”

Edgar’s poetic proposal died on his lips, and he screamed.

 

——

 

“Wake up! Edgar, honey, wake up!”

The king grumbled and groggily opened his eyes. Terra stopped shaking his shoulder and stared down at him. The moonlight etched her features into someone almost unrecognizable, but he knew her voice in a heartbeat. “What’s wrong?” he rasped. “What time is it?”

“It’s the middle of the night. You were having a nightmare and kept screaming. I was scared.”

Edgar smiled in the darkness. _That’s what I love about her. She’s honest when she’s afraid_. He reached up and tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. “Don’t worry, love. I’m fine now.” He stretched and yawned, then pulled her close against him. “I probably won’t be able to fall back asleep for awhile, but I’m fine.”

His wife snuggled close. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“All right. Well, it was very weird. I was twenty-three again, and then one of the old messengers who died when Kefka shifted the balance and the world was almost destroyed came up to me and said some woman was waiting in the east tower. So I go there and talk to the girl, only when I ask her her name, she tells me she’s Sabin, and suddenly she _looks_ like Sabin. It was so creepy to think I was flirting with my twin brother.” He paused, yawning, and looked down at the figure in his arms. “Isn’t that a strange dream, love?”

“Edgar, sweetie, it wasn’t a dream.”

The room seemed to brighten, and the scruffy face of his brother stared up at him, adoration shining in his jewel-blue eyes.

Once more, Edgar screamed.

 

——

 

“How long has he been like this, your Highness?” Setzer Gabbiani asked, nodding towards the bed where King Edgar lay chuckling mindlessly to himself.

“Setzer, I’ve asked you not to call me that,” Terra sighed. “He started acting this way a few nights ago. He was having a nightmare, and suddenly he grabbed me and kept shouting something about Sabin. I don’t know why.” The screams echoed in her mind, and the bruises on her arms and neck stung. The world went blurry, and she sat back down in the chair by the bed. Celes Cole, her best friend, came over and stroked her hair.

“Well, it’s possible this is all natural,” Locke, Celes's husband, said. “I mean, he’s always been kinda messed up in the head, ever since I met him what—almost twenty years ago? Yeah. Hell, he’d hafta be nutty to have flirted the way he did. Maybe now he’s lost it completely.” The queen’s head shot up, and she caught the dirty look Celes shot him.

“Yeah, maybe Locke’s got a point. Since he got married, Edgar hasn’t been able to flirt like he used to. Maybe the stress finally got to him,” Setzer said, scar over his eye glinting in the dim chamber.

“So I’m the cause,” Terra asked bitterly.

Celes glared at Setzer, then hugged her friend. “Terra, honey, this isn’t your fault at all.” She looked at the men. “We could stand here all day and argue about what happened to him, but it won’t get us anywhere. The doctor here couldn’t figure it out. We need to find something to cure whatever it is. We know the symptoms, so we should go to a pharmacy somewhere. They’d probably have something that can fix this. Setzer, you’ve brought us here on your airship, so take us to…” She paused. “Where should we go?”

“Why not South Figaro? It’s a port, so they should have a wide variety of different items,” the pilot suggested.

“All right,” she nodded. “Setzer, go warm up the engine. Locke,” the man looked up from where he’d been studying an ancient vase on a corner table, “leave that alone. Go down to the kitchen and get some food so we can eat on the ride there.”

“I’ve got food on the _Falcon_ ,” Setzer complained.

“If I remember right, it wasn’t so much food as chunks of mold wrapped in wax paper. I don’t think Terra’s eaten much in the past few days, Locke, so make sure it’s something healthy. Dark bread would probably be good. I’ll stay here and help her pack. We leave in an hour.” With her hands on her hips, Celes looked like the strong general she’d been during the war, even though the ten years since had added their share of age and pounds. The men nodded and left without complaint, and the woman turned back to the tear-streaked queen. “All right, let’s get you cleaned up, hon. Where do you keep your bags?”

 

——

 

Prince Sabin strode through Figaro Castle’s lofty iron gate, barely taking the time to knock the crusty sand off his boots. His heavily-muscled chest gleamed in the electric lights leading to the throne room; he resisted the urge to run, even though it would’ve gotten him there sooner. The throne room doors beckoned, and he threw them open. “Edgar!” he cried.

The Chancellor stood by the gilded iron throne, and he ran forward. “Your Highness! We had not heard you were com—”

“Where’s my brother? Where’s Terra? I need to speak to them. It’s really important.”

“His Majesty has taken ill, and the queen left not an hour past to find medicine for him. What is the matter?”

Sabin turned away and paced back and forth. “Not good, not good. If he’s sick, the last thing he needs is more bad news…” He looked at the Chancellor. “Where is he?”

“In his chamber, your Highness, but might I suggest that—”

“Thanks.” Sabin turned heel and practically ran through the winding corridors to his twin’s room. The soldiers by the door bowed to him, and he nodded curtly. His hands were sweaty as he twisted the doorknob. _How am I going to tell him about his son_? he thought.

The prince poked his head in and said softly, “Edgar?” He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Bro, are you awake?” _Damn, I’m going to have to wake him up. This is too important, he’ll kill me if I leave it until later_. Sabin shuffled across the floor to the chair beside the bed, then sat down. _He really looks awful. Are they sure he’s ill and not crazy? I’ve never seen him talk to himself._ He patted the silk-pajama-ed shoulder and said, “Bro? Bro, it’s me.”

Edgar muttered something, and Sabin leaned close to his face. “What was that?” He shook his brother’s shoulder again. “C’mon, Bro, wake up. It’s me, Sabin.”

Suddenly, the king’s arms latched around Sabin’s neck. The strength and unexpectedness threw the prince off his guard, and a gurgle escaped his throat. His brother’s screeching pierced his ears, and Sabin struggled to free himself from the steel grip. As the world went black around him, he thought he heard laughter amidst the screams.


	3. The Port

Figaro’s queen stood on the deck of the Falcon cloud-mist tugging at her ponytail, tangling it. Worry bubbled in her stomach, and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the handrail. _What’s going on?_ she asked herself. _Why is he like this?_ A memory tickled her mind, and in the clouds she could almost see the ghostly figure from her dream. She rested her forehead on her fists.

“Terra, ya all right?”

She turned to see Locke at her elbow. “Hmm? Yeah.”

The man smiled and patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’re just gonna go to South Figaro and get something’ for Edgar. It’s a port town, so there’s bound to be somethin’ that’ll help. Before you know it, he’ll be good as new.”

“I know.” She stared out at the clouds again, but the ghost was gone.

After a moment, Locke said, “Celes was lookin’ for ya. She thought ya might wanna talk, catch up, that kinda thing. Girl stuff.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He followed her best friend’s husband down into the main part of the ship, where Setzer had installed some basic facilities: kitchenette, dining area, benches that could be turned into bunks, and so on. Celes was sitting on one of the benches, a steaming mug on the table in front of her. She smiled as Terra approached. “That didn’t take long.”

“I was just up on deck thinking.”

“Oh, all right, then.”

Locke turned away. “I’ll go keep Setzer company. Maybe he’ll let me fly a bit.”

Celes rolled her eyes at Terra, who smiled weakly. “I’m sure he’s fine flying, but he wouldn’t mind someone to talk to, I’m sure.”

“I’ll come get ya when we arrive.” The treasure hunter disappeared up the stairs.

His wife patted the seat beside her. “Sit down. Do you want something to drink? Something warm might do you good, calm your nerves.”

“All right,” Terra said, sitting down. Celes poured her a cup of coffee, and the queen took a careful sip. “Good,” she said, leaning back into the cushions.

“We haven’t seen each other in a long time. How have things been?”

“Good, other than...,” she swallowed hard. “The twins are off doing their thing. Marissa’s enjoying her riding, and she’s off with some friends and their parents on a trip around the world. She was pretty excited, but she won’t be back for a few months.”

“You let her go that far? How old are they now?”

“She’s seven, so it is young, but Edgar and I decided that it was important for her to get the exposure. She’ll go again when she’s older, of course, but for now it’s a good chance to start learning about different cultures. Things like that.”

“What about Dylan?”

“He’s off in the mountains with Sabin, of course. We practically need a royal degree to get him back home.” Terra warmed her hands on her mug while Celes laughed. “But we decided this year that he start doing this every year for a few months as a break from studying strategy and diplomacy. Sabin insists that Dylan needs to be strong physically to be a worthwhile ruler. When he gets back, I think we’re going to let him have a chance to see the world like Marissa is. He needs the exposure, too.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“What about you? How’s Dirk?”

“We’re doing well. Dirk takes after his dad in a lot of ways, so it’s a little nerve-wracking at times. Cookies and loose change have a way of disappearing.”

“How old is he now?”

“Eight, so Locke and I just left him in Kohlingen with Gramma Brown.”

Terra stared at the mug in her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Both you and Edgar have done so much for us, so now it’s our turn to help you, now that you need it. Besides, we haven’t seen each other in almost a year. There’s nothing wrong with catching up.”

“But you two have to work, don’t you?”

Celes put her hand on her friend’s wrist. “Look, it’s nothing we can’t let go of for a few days. Locke’s assistants can handle anything major that comes up, and he’s suspended all appraisals until we return. If that takes a week or two or five, it won’t matter. What matters is making sure everything is okay with you two.”

The queen smiled a little. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry. Everythin’ will be all right,” someone said behind them. The women turned and saw Locke standing there. “We’re almost to South Figaro, if you’d like to come up on deck.”

“Oh, okay. Do you mind taking care of these?” Celes said, finishing off her drink.

“I’ll do it,” Terra said.

“No, let me. Setzer’ll probably wanna know where ya wanna land.” Locke took the empty mugs and walked over to the sink. “Oh, Terra?”

“Yes?”

“Ya may wanna take off the circlet and signet and stuff. I know we left the guards at the castle, but ya don’t wanna be immediately recognizable as royalty or else ya might get swamped.”

“But I come to South Figaro quite a bit with Edgar and the children. How will they not recognize me?”

“Well, you’re in travel clothes, first off,” Celes said. “And, not to make you feel bad or anything, but you don’t look like you’re at your best physically. I know you haven’t been sleeping, but I’m sure that you’re pretty well made-up when you’re here.”

“And you’ll be on foot with us. I doubt Edgar or your guards’d let ya go on foot around South Figaro, right?” Locke added.

The queen nodded and removed the ruby-studded band from about her forehead. “Where should I put it?”

“Just leave it on the table. I’ll put it in your cabin for ya when I’m finished with the dishes.”

“Thank you.”

Celes cocked her head. “Sure you want him to do it?”

“Why not? If it goes missing, he’d be the first one I’d ask. Besides, he’s honest,” Terra replied.

“An honest thief?” she winked.

“Har har, very funny, your General-ship. Better hurry before Setzer accuses me of not sending ya up.”

Celes laughed and kissed his cheek. “All right, love. Hurry up, and I’ll make sure we don’t leave without you.” Terra handed him her badges of office, and both women left the room.

“What was that about with the dishes?” the queen asked as she and Celes climbed the ladder.

“Huh? Oh, I cook, he does the dishes. Dirk helps sometimes, but not often. He’s got his own set of chores.”

“Oh, okay. I guess that makes sense.” _That would be nice...then I could feel more useful around the castle, but the Chancellor would have a fit if he came down and saw me taking care of scullery work again._

It had been a constant battle in the early days of the marriage, what Terra’s duties were as queen. She’d grown up a soldier and taken care of a house full of children after Kefka split the world, so lounging around with nothing expected of her had been luxurious for a week, then intensely boring. She snuck into the bowels of the castle and worked along with the repairers and strongmen who kept the building warm and sand-tight, but when one of them slipped that she’d been helping, the Chancellor had given her a stern talking-to. Edgar, to her surprise, agreed that it was too dangerous. “But I helped you defeat Kefka! What could be more dangerous than that?” she’d asked.

“That was different. I can’t lose you, Terra.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Read. Learn. What have you always wanted to learn how to do?”

The queen had taken his advice and started working in the kitchen. She insisted on starting from the bottom as a scullery maid, an, once again, her husband and his chief advisor had been horrified when they found out. “Why are you scrubbing pans?” they’d asked.

“I want to. I’ve never been trained in any of this, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to start in the middle ranks.”

“And how do you think the lowly beginners feel when they see you having to do less work?”

That had startled her, but she’d replied, “Happy that their queen is willing to do their job.”

She’d started noticing it, though, after he’d mentioned it. She’d be given a pile of pans to wash, but the girls beside her had more and crustier dishes to clean than she did. Even when she’d offered to trade piles, the girls insisted that the piles were equal, and they continued their work. After a few weeks of iniquity, she told the head chef that Edgar wanted her to get more rest. Luckily, she was pregnant with the twins at the time, so she was able to use that excuse; she couldn’t imagine what she would’ve said if that hadn’t been the case.

She’d learned many things over the years as queen: economics, diplomacy, logic. She could pick the fluff and titles from a duke’s letter to find the true meaning and write a reply with equal flower, but she couldn’t bake cookies for her children or make them nice clothes for special occasions. She’d taken up gardening in the solarium, but even that was an idle pleasure. During the long, dull days that seemed to occur more and more frequently as her children grew, she sometimes wished she could just take her family away to some out-of-the-way hamlet and live a simpler life. _If fairy tales continued, no little girl would want to be a princess_ , she mused, staring at the approaching city below the airship.

“Well, your Highness, where to first?” Setzer asked as he stood at the tiller, easing the airship onto the ground. After the engine stopped, he turned to face the women.

“Setzer, please stop calling me that,” she sighed. “Why don’t we go to the item shop? They might have something good. What time is it?”

“About 4:30.”

“And the shops close at 5:30...how about we get some rooms at the inn, too, then. It’s going to be late by the time we get everything, and I was uncomfortable the last time I slept on the airship. I’m sorry.”

“No problem. A bed sounds good to me, too. Hey, Locke?”

“Yes?” the man said, appearing at the top of the stairs.

“Can I have some money to pay for the inn?”

Locke strode up to them and pulled out his coin pouch. “How much?” he asked warily.

“Well, if it’s three rooms, that should be...575 GP.” The pilot held out a hand.

“Never used t’cost that much.”

“Inflation. Once peace came and business picked up, innkeepers figured they could charge more.” Locke grumbled something unintelligible and dropped four coins into his palm. “Thanks,” the pilot said, pocketing them.

Celes kissed her husband on the cheek, and Terra heard her whisper, “Don’t worry about the money, love. I’m sure you can find some way to make it back.”

They landed outside of town, which had exploded in the ten years since the end of the war. The new location was perfect for world trade, and the dock was a nest of piers jutting into the harbor. Terra’s group made their way through the haphazard neighborhoods, scattered where temporary caravan settlements had become permanent homes. The central square that had been the original city remained the same, however, and the Queen marveled at how the years hadn’t touched the chocobo stable or Her Majesty’s Inn and Tavern. Setzer left them in front of the inn, and the other three made their way over to the item shop.

Terra was silent during the short walk. Locke had one arm around Celes’ shoulders, occasionally dipping his free hand into the pocket of a window shopper and removing some trinket or change purse. The queen trailed behind them, and only noticed the lightning-quick movements because their time spent together in battle taught her what to look for. She smiled as a conversation during the war drifted back.

_“Where did all this come from?” Edgar asked as Locke emptied the contents of his pockets on a scarred table on the Blackjack, Setzer’s first airship._

_“Various Tzenians. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred...”_

_“What do you mean, ‘various Tzenians’? Don’t tell me your thieving instinct kicked in again!”_

_“Seven hundred, well, I have t’keep in practice. Eight hundred...”_

_“Geez, Locke! We’ve got money! They don’t! They need it more than we do!”_

_“Ten fifty, eleven, eleven fifty...”_

_“Locke!”_

_“Twelve...twelve...great. Look what ya made me do. Now I gotta start all over. One hundred...”_

_“Locke, you little thief, go right back out there and give back all the money you stole. Now!”_

_The treasure hunter sighed and glared up at the king. “Ya don’t get it, do ya? The Empire woulda gotten every GP eventually. One way or another, the people I took this from never woulda seen it again. But since I got it instead, ya know it’s goin’ towards a good cause.”_

_“And in the meantime, they can’t afford to eat! And they’ll still have to pay taxes to Gestahl and his cronies!”_

_Locke reached over and picked up a shining coin from the table. “Edgar, look. This is worth ten GP. How much food will ten GP buy in this town, on the Imperial continent? Maybe a slice of bread. Two slices, if it’s the heel or a few days old. This is small change, all of it, and Tzen isn’t some backwater. If this were Kohlingen or Mobliz, I’d keep my hands t’myself. But it’s not. All right?” Locke stood and scooped the money into a leather pouch he pulled from a pocket, then looped it onto his belt. He started to walk away, then stopped. “And Edgar?” he asked without turning around._

_“What?”_

_“That’s ‘treasure hunter,’ not ‘thief.’ Get it right or ya get t’become real friendly with my dagger.”_

“Terra?” Celes said.

The queen blinked, and the memory vanished. “Huh?”

“We’re here.” The woman gestured towards the wood and plaster facade of the item shop. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem really distracted. I know these past few days have been really tough, so if you want Locke or me to take you to the inn, we could get the medicine for you.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I just keep thinking about Edgar.”

Locke smiled at her. “We’ll get somethin’ here t’help.”

“I know. I’m not worried. Let’s hurry before Setzer starts wondering where we are.” She opened the door and walked into a wall of herbal scents. Bottles lined aisles of shelves, emerald and amber and topaz liquids brimming to cork-stopped necks. They distorted the groups’ faces as they strode to the counter.

“May I help you?” asked the wizened shopkeeper.

“I’m looking for something to cure my husband,” Terra asked.

“Really? Poor man. Tell me something about his symptoms, and we’ll get him fixed right up.”

_He really doesn’t recognize me_ , she thought. Aloud, she said, “He just lies in bed muttering to himself, and we’ve scarcely been able to feed or bathe him. We don’t know what to do.”

“Well, ma’am,” he said, coming from behind the counter, “let’s see what we have.” The group followed him up and down the aisles as he rummaged through them, a basket on his arm. “Here we go!” he said, pulling out a smoky glass vial with a familiar dark liquid inside. “This might do the trick.”

“What is it?” Locke asked as Terra took it.

“A revivify! It’s guaranteed to bring your husband out of his zombie-like state.”

“Just a revivify? Ya think it will really work? He doesn’t look like a zombie, ‘n it seems like the first thing the doctor woulda tried.”

_But if it will make him better, we have to get it_ , Terra thought.

Celes caught her eye and said, “It’s worth a shot, though, right?”

“Yeah, why not?” Locke said.

Terra’s heart calmed a bit, and the shopkeeper put the vial in his basket.

“Is there anything else you can recommend, sir?” Celes asked. “Surely Nikeah or Doma has supplied you with remedies from around the world.”

“As a matter of fact...”

The basket was cluttered with glass vessels of many types by the time queen’s party and the shopkeeper returned to the counter. Many of the concoctions hailed from Jidoor, where a medical school had been started a few years previously. Terra failed to hide her surprise until she remembered that magic was gone from their world, so it only made sense that alternate forms of healing were developed to deal with broken bones and cancerous growths. She shook her head to clear it, then asked, “How much for all of these?”

“These...” The old man pulled out a scrap of paper, twisted the bottles this way and that, and scribbled numbers in a long column with a grease pencil. Finally he said, “12,050.”

The queen swallowed hard, knowing that, while the royal treasury could easily handle the blow, her personal purse only contained a quarter of that sum. _So this is the price of traveling incognito._

A hand squeezed her shoulder, and Celes leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t worry, dear. You can pay us back later.” Louder, she said, “Locke?”

The man stepped forward, a pouch in his palm, and counted the coins out onto the scarred countertop. “There,” he said, pushing the gleaming stacks over.

The shopkeeper counted them as well, then dumped them into a wooden box. After gathering the bottles back into the basket, he handed Locke the slip of paper. “Have a nice day, now, and thank you for your patronage.”

“Thank you,” Terra replied. She slid the basket into the crook of her arm, and she and her friends stepped out of the dim building into the late afternoon sun.

A few steps away from the building, she whirled to face them, feeling lighter than she had in days. “Thank you, guys! We’ve got so many medicines that one will have to work!”

“You’re welcome. I hope one of them helps. You can pay us back when you get back to the palace.”

The queen nodded and, turning, bumped into a tall figure in their path. “Oh!”

“Hey, your Highness. I was just coming to see if you found anything yet.”

“Oh, yes!” She held out the basket for his inspection.

The pilot pulled two bottles out and stared at them for a moment. He eased out the cork of a fizzing purple one, took a delicate sniff, then gulped down the contents.

Terra grabbed for the bottle, horrified. “That was for Edgar! What if that was the real cure!”

The pilot belched, then passed her back both bottles. “The only thing that could’ve cured is thirst. How’d he manage to sell you grape soda?”

Locke blinked, then growled, “That rotten—”

“Are all of them like that?” Celes asked, looping her arm through her husband’s.

Setzer leaned over and rummaged through the bottles. When he straightened, a grin split his face. “No, the rest are fine. But,” he held up the smoky vial, “why did you buy a revivify? I’ve got plenty already on the airship.”

“Well, now we won’t need to borrow one of yours,” Celes replied through clenched teeth, struggling to keep Locke in place.

“Where are we staying?” Terra asked.

Setzer passed her the bottles and an envelope, then handed a second envelope to the Coles. “At Her Majesty’s. You’re in 110, Terra, and you two are in 112.”

“What about you?” Locke queried, cocking an eyebrow.

“Someone’s got to watch the ship, and since I’m the only one who knows how to lock her up...”

“Then what happened to the other eighty I gave you?”

The pilot winked. “Thievery isn’t the only way to make money, y’know. Give me an hour tonight and I’ll pay you back. No worries.”

“If you lose it all with the dice cup, gambler, I swear I’ll take it out of your hide,” the treasure hunter growled.

“Hey, hey, guys, come on. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s almost dinner time, so why don’t we go get something to eat? The cafe’s food is good, and we haven’t eaten out in awhile, have we, Locke?” Celes smiled winningly at her husband. “Then we can all just go to bed and fly back to Figaro tomorrow. How does that sound?” The flint in her eyes was reminiscent of the stone-faced general she’d once been. Her arm still linked through her husband’s, they began walking towards the inn. Setzer and Terra followed.

It wasn’t long before they were seated at a scarred oak table awaiting the arrival of drinks and bread. Like the central city, the interior hadn’t changed much, though it seemed more worn in the light of the flickering chandeliers. The queen yawned and pressed a hand over her eyes.

“You all right?” Locke asked from across the table.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Just a little tired.”

“I’ll bet,” Celes said. “You probably haven’t slept hardly at all. As soon as we’re done here—”

“Mama Terra?”

The voice, full of both relief and worry, jarred them. Four pairs of eyes turned towards the dark-haired man in travel-stained clothes to whom the voice belonged. “Mama Terra! Thank God! I was worried I’d never find you after they told me at the castle you were gone!”

“Duane?” the queen asked, then stood. “What are you doing here?” She gave him a brief hug. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Katarin and Ciana. They’re sick.”

The vision of a pale statue appeared before her eyes, and Terra paled. “Oh God.”


	4. The Doctor

Terra sat in her room, the candle on the table and flames in the fireplace flickering their orange light on the plaster walls of her bedroom. A light robe enveloped her as she sat, her mind drifting off into space. From far in the distance music and revelry found her ears; the social district was always noisy in the night. The queen didn’t stir, save to rest her forehead on one hand.

Duane’s arrival and pronouncement had shaken her more deeply than she’d shown her companions, and they’d left it to her to decide their next course of action. The man she’d taken care of as a boy had explained to her all he knew of the situation, the tremble in his voice betraying his fear. _One moment they were fine, and the next day he found them both unresponsive._

“Have you tried to wake them? Give them smelling salts or something?” Celes had asked earlier.

The man had nodded silently. “It didn't work.”

“But why would something like this happen?” Terra asked softly. The solitude afforded her no more answers than the noisy common room a few hours before.

There was a gentle tapping on her door, and the queen said, “Come in.”

The door opened, then closed, and Locke’s voice greeted her ears. “Are ya okay, Terra?”

She didn’t look up. “Not particularly.”

A chair scraped on the hardwood floor, and from the corner of her eye she saw her old friend sit down. “What can I do t’make it better?”

“It’s Edgar and Duane.”

“That wasn’t a great thing for him t’say when he’s comin’ t’ya for help,” Locke agreed.

For a long moment, they were silent. The memory of Duane’s anger returned to Terra’s mind. When she’d told him that they were going to help Edgar first, then go to Katarin and Ciana, he’d spat. “You promised to protect us, Mama, whenever we needed it. Whenever we were in trouble, you swore you’d be there. And now two of us are suffering, and you’re going to let us keep suffering until it’s convenient for you to come?” He’d wavered for a moment, looking slightly guilty, but he thrust his chin out in defiance.

The queen shook her head, sending the memory away and returning her mind to her room in the inn. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know ya didn’t, Terra. He knows it, too,” Locke said soothingly. “He understands you’re both goin’ through the same thing right now, and he’s gonna calm down and tomorrow everythin’ will be fine.”

“That’s the other part that doesn’t make sense, though. Edgar, Katarin, Ciana…they’re all sick. Isn’t it strange that it’d happen all at the same time? And it seems to be the same thing?” She looked up at him imploringly.

Locke shook his head. “No way. The girls’re sick, but they’re just passed out. Probably from exhaustion—ya remember how tough livin’ in Mobliz was, don’t ya? I mean, it’s easier t’grow stuff there now, but they’re still really young to be figurin’ out how to run a place on their own. I dunno, how many people moved there after the war?”

“Not many,” Terra admitted.

“See? They gotta run a village and get imports and grow food and prepare goods…it’s amazin’ that they’ve made it this far, right? Edgar’s condition is different. He’s sick, yeah, but it’s just insanity, and we’ve got the meds to fix it now. We were working on this before Duane came, and, t’tell ya the truth and not t’be mean t’him, but it’s more important t’heal Edgar before Katarin ‘n Ciana. Ya know why, too, don’t ya?”

Figaro’s Queen nodded. “If I’m going to be gone a long time, Edgar has to be there taking care of things. The Chancellor is capable, but people respect Edgar’s judgment more because he’s king.”

Locke nodded. “Exactly. So we get Edgar all fixed up, then we go over t’Mobliz and see what we can do.”

Terra nodded, but looked into the fire. “But I can’t get his face out of my head. I can’t stop feeling that I’m letting him down.”

“Don’t worry. Celes is talkin’ t’him about it now. Remember what a good persuader she is? I mean, even if we’re just lookin’ at this situation from a geographical standpoint, it’s a lot faster for us t’go from here t’Figaro than from here t’Mobliz and back t’Figaro and back, since we’ll probably have to find a place with more cures. In two days, probably, we’ll be in Mobliz and Edgar will be fine. So at least we’ll have the peace of mind that we fixed somethin’.” The treasure hunter stood and grinned at her. “So no worries, okay? We’ll work everythin’ out. Get some sleep, and we’ll make sure to wake you tomorrow before we leave. Good night!” He slipped out the door as quietly as he’d come, leaving Terra alone with the firelight.

She sat for a bit longer, then smiled slightly. “Tomorrow everything will be okay. We’ll heal you, Eddie, and then we’ll make sure Katarin and Ciana are safe. And everything will be okay.”

 

——

 

When the group boarded the airship the following morning, the queen appeared more refreshed than she had been the night before. Her hair was neatly washed and pinned up in a serviceable bun, and her clothes were freshly pressed. “My friends,” she said, “thank you for coming with me. We have a cure for Edgar now, and soon he’ll be up and on his feet. If you two,” she nodded towards Locke and Celes, “want to go home now and be with your son, that’s fine. I can pay for passage on a ship to Kohlingen and give you money for chocobos when you land.”

“No way,” Locke said. “We’re gonna go with ya.”

“We promised we’d help you figure out what happened,” Celes added.

Terra shook her head. “It doesn’t matter why he got sick, now that we know how to cure him.”

“What are you going to do, your Highness?” Setzer asked. “Or do I have to stand at the tiller all day going nowhere?”

The queen turned towards him. “I’m going to Mobliz to help Katarin and Ciana. Duane needs me, and I promised I’d be there whenever any of my ‘children’ need me. Setzer, I’d like you to fly me there, then fly back to Figaro and give these medicines to the doctors at the Castle to heal Edgar. Then, when he’s all better, bring him to Mobliz so we can work together to help Katarin and Ciana.” She smiled wistfully. “I’m afraid I may need to borrow your wings longer than we originally anticipated.”

The pilot grinned and gunned the engines. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The three left Setzer to fly and trooped downstairs into the main cabin, where they found Duane pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, and his cheeks were gaunt with worry. Celes walked over to the kitchenette and began preparing coffee, and Locke plopped down at a table, drew a pouch from a hidden pocket in his vest, and dumped it onto a table to count its contents. Terra took Duane’s hand and sat down on the couch. “Tell me again what happened, Duane.”

“One night about a week and a half ago I woke up to her my daughter Ciana crying. I went to see what was wrong because it was odd that my ten-year-old daughter would be crying about anything.

“I went into her room and held her, but Ciana wouldn’t stop crying. She kept calling for her mother. So I went back to my room to get Katarin, and I shook her shoulder and told her to wake up. But she wasn’t even moving. I called her name and told her that Ciana wanted her, but she didn’t respond. I checked my wife’s pulse, and it was hardly there. I ran to get the doctor, and he told me that Katarin was physically fine, and didn’t know what could’ve caused her to go into the coma or whatever. Then I realized that my daughter wouldn’t stop crying. The doctor checked her, too, and the result was the same: Ciana was in perfect health, and there was nothing that should have caused her to go into that state.

“I didn’t know what to do. I left early the next morning for Nikeah. I hopped the next boat here and was going to start out for Figaro Castle tomorrow morning to get you.” Duane hung his head and sighed. “I don’t know what to do. Katarin and Ciana are with the doctor, but I didn’t want to leave them. I had to find you, though. You understand, don’t you, Mama?” His brown eyes were liquid as he gazed up at her.

The queen nodded and patted his cheek as she had when he was a teenager. “Of course I do. I’m glad you came to me. I don’t really know what I can do, but I’ll give you all the help I can.”

“Me too,” Celes said, bringing over a tray with three mugs of steaming coffee. “I don’t have much medical knowledge, since we always just relied on my the healing powers of the Espers in the army, but I’ve learned a few things living in Kohlingen and having my own son that could help.”

Duane wiped his eyes with his sleeve and nodded. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry. I could one day be in your place, and I’d be glad for all the help I could get, even if it was only a little,” the woman smiled.

They drank their coffee in silence for several minutes. Celes’s words echoed in Terra’s mind, and she frowned inwardly. _She’s gotten so much wiser these past ten years. They’ve all grown so much. What about me?_ she wondered, her stomach knotting.

At midday, Setzer came down and told them they wouldn’t reach Mobliz until the next morning. “There’s a front moving in, so I’m going to have to make a slight detour north to get out of the way.”

“Can’t we just fly above it?” Duane asked.

“I rely on topography to get around, and I can’t see anything through thunderheads. We wouldn’t have gotten there before evening anyway, since we left so late, and there’s not much we can do if we land and everyone’s asleep. Think of it this way: it’s not like we’re losing that much time.”

Duane didn’t say anything, but Terra asked, “I assume we can’t just fly through it, either?”

“Not unless you’d like to risk losing the engine. Flying through a storm is worse than sailing through one. The wind gets pretty bad, lightning arcs across the clouds, and it’s a lot longer drop with no lifeboats if something goes wrong. I prefer to avoid storms if I’ve got any choice.”

“And wasn’t a storm how—” Locke began.

“Yeah.” Setzer turned around. “I’m going back up,” he said after a moment, his voice less gruff. “We aren’t going to land until we get to Mobliz, so if you want to make something to eat, you’re welcome to anything in the fridge and cupboards.”

“Would you like us to make something for you, too?” Celes asked.

“I’ll come back down later. No worries.”

“Okay. I’ll bring you some coffee and a sandwich or something later,” Terra said, and the man retreated up the stairs.

Celes turned and flashed her husband a deadly glare.

“What? What’s that for?” Locke asked.

“Do you have to bring her up? You know how he feels.”

“C’mon, it’s been how many years? And I thought he was dating that Maria girl. He should be over Denise or whatever he name was by now. Daryll”

“Just like you’re over Rachel, hmm?” Celes asked archly. Locke narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think I don’t know that you still go to your grove and—”

“Please, you two, do you have to argue?” Terra asked. “I don’t want to deal with this right now.” She stood and walked over to the kitchenette and started poking through the supplies. “What should we make for lunch?”

“Sorry, Terra,” the woman replied, standing and walking to the refrigerator. “I didn’t see much when I was making the coffee, but I didn’t really look, either.”

“What do you suppose this is?” the queen asked, pulling out an unmarked bag of greenish-white powder.

“It looks like it used to be flour, but I’ve never seen green flour before.” Celes leaned over and sniffed it, then drew back in disgust. “Whatever it is, it’s unfit for human consumption.”

In the end, the pair managed to scrounge up half a bag of beans and some bacon from the freezer. Locke and Duane ate it without complaint, but Setzer wrinkled his nose when Terra brought up a bowl and a mug of coffee for him. “This was the best you could do?”

“Why are you the one complaining? Everything else was rancid. I’m surprised we even found this. Don’t you ever buy groceries?”

The pilot shrugged. “I lose track of time when I’m flying. It seems to sustain me well enough, and, when I can’t take it anymore, I land and play a few rounds of poker. I guess they feed me when I play.”

“That explains it. Well, Duane says the harvest in Mobliz was good this year, so you can probably get some fresh vegetables and grain while we’re there. I’m sure Edgar would appreciate a real meal when you bring him.”

Setzer swallowed the last gulp of coffee and handed the empty dishes back to her. “Just be careful, your Highness. I know you’re betting on those medicines of yours working, but don’t get your hopes up too high. Even when you know you’ve got a good hand, it’s always best to keep a little of yourself in reserve, just in case the game doesn’t turn out just like you planned.”

“I know that, Setzer,” Terra said, jerking the plate and mug away.

The pilot caught her arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to give you some advice. You never know what might happen, and I just don’t want you to get hurt if it doesn’t work.”

“If it doesn’t work, we’ll think of something else. That’s what we do, right?”

“Right,” Setzer grinned. “Go back down before you freeze. Thanks for the food.”

“You’re welcome.”

Down below, the travelers struggled to occupy themselves until they reached Mobliz. The pilot’s choice of entertainments wasn’t much better than his selection of food, they discovered much to their chagrin; since he always flew the ship, he had no need for books or games. They found a few decks of cards and some poker chips, but none of them gambled much, and a few hands of skat later left them bored. Locke went to inspect the old sleeping chambers from their journeys, leaving Celes and Terra to entertain Duane. Though she had weighty matters on her mind, Figaro’s Queen struggled to keep the conversation light and hopeful, until Duane asked in a tired voice if she’d please be quiet. She apologized quickly, then dozed off until dinner—beans and bacon again, but this time as a soup.

“It’ll stick, at least,” Locke said at his second helping, “but I gotta admit, I’m gonna be happy when we get some real food.”

“Me, too,” everyone agreed.

Because they had nothing better to do, they split up for their chosen chambers. As she drew the stiff woolen blanket to her chin, Terra reflected on the strangeness of the empty ship. She’d ridden it since the war the decade before, but even then her entourage had filled the berths with noisy bodies. _With so few people here, it doesn’t really feel like the_ Falcon, she mused sleepily. _Hopefully it’ll fill up soon_.

 

——

 

The sun rose upon a familiar setting the next morning: sturdy whitewashed houses dotting a quilt of autumn-turned fields, fire-leaved groves, and, all around, the glitter of rosy seawater in the morning. Though the town had quadrupled in size since her last visit, and despite the new pier jutting out into the water, and even though she’d only spent one desperate year struggling to protect the children orphaned by Kefka’s cruelty, she knew the curve of the land like the curve of her husband’s jaw. This was Mobliz; this was home.

The faces that turned towards her as Duane led their party through town were strange, though. None was older than his, and Terra knew he’d seen no more than twenty-six summers. Men looked up from their work moving goods from the port to the freshly built shop in the center of town, and women waved as they brought in wood for the morning cookfires. One woman bent to the child behind her skirt and pointed. “See that woman? That’s Mama Terra. She protected your Mama and Papa years and years ago,” the queen heard her say.

Terra waved and smiled, but her heart sank with each passing face. _This is what I get for staying away so long. Seven years has changed everything, and I don’t even know them anymore. When all this is over, when Edgar is better and Dylan and Marissa have returned home, I’m going to bring them all here. They need to see this place, and I’ve been gone far too long._

The town square was as clean and new as the rest of the town. While relatively poor compared to those of Nikeah or South Figaro, the dedicatory statue to the Heroes of the World gleamed in the morning sun, surrounded by late summer flowers and painted benches. A few foreign vendors had set up their gaily striped stalls, and calls of “Bread for sale!” and “Fresh fish!” were starting to ring across the square as the town woke to the day.

After stopping to purchase a few loaves and trout (at Celes’ insistence), Setzer broke off from the group. “I’m going to Figaro to drop off those meds now. If nothing works, I’ll be back in no more than two days, but if it looks like Edgar’s going to recover quickly, I’ll wait and bring him back with me.” He turned to Duane. “You’ve got birds in this town, right?”

“Pigeons? Of course.”

“Good. If you need me sooner than two days, send one to Figaro and I’ll probably get it. I’ll send word if I’m going to take longer. I trust you guys won’t leave until I come back, right?”

“No, we’ll be here. But what if we need to get in touch with you, and you’re in the air?” Terra asked.

The pilot nodded. “Good point. Hey, Locke, want to come back to the ship with me? I’ve got some birds trained to find my ship in case of emergency. If I’d were smart, I’d have thought of that before.”

“Okay, no problem,” the treasure hunter replied.

“Everyone, good luck here. I hope I don’t see you again for awhile, because that means good news, right?” Setzer grinned.

“Yes, fly safely,” Terra replied. “Be sure to bring my husband back with you.”

“I’ll do my best,” the pilot nodded gravely. He and Locke turned and walked out of the square.

“Have fun, Setzer! Thanks for buying the food!” Celes called after him.

Terra was unable to suppress her grin at that, but it faded when she saw Duane’s face. “I’m sorry, hon. Let’s go. Are your wife and daughter at your house?”

“No, they’re at the hospital.”

“Hospital?” the queen asked.  
            “You’ll see.”

After a few more minutes of walking along the straight, airy avenues of the brand new town, they arrived at a comparatively older building. Though well-kept, the dark brick and red shingles seemed out of place, yet an aura of reverence hovered over the structure. It took a moment to register, but Terra blinked at murmured, “Who’d have guessed?”

Duane nodded. “It’s the place you took care of all of us years and years ago. We weren’t sure what to do with it, originally, and then a doctor showed up and we decided we’d let him have it for his hospital, since he played a part in saving us, too.”

“He did?” Terra asked, following him into the building.

While the exterior was almost exactly the same, the interior had changed as much as the town itself. The rickety staircase still led to the basement, but chairs and cheerful potted plants lined the plaster walls. A new room had been walled off across the back, with a placard by the door reading “Examination Room.” A desk jutted from the wall, and a young, crisply dressed nurse stood when they entered. “Duane, you’re back!” she said, springing up to them.

“And I’ve brought someone who can help, hopefully,” he replied.

The nurse looked at Terra and Celes, then gasped. “Mama!” She threw her arms around the queen’s neck, then backed away, embarrassedly smoothing her front and bobbed her head. “I’m sorry. I guess people don’t do that to royalty.”

Terra shook her head, smiling, but struggled for a name and found none forthcoming. “Don’t worry, dear. It _has_ been awhile.”

“Yes!”

“Nancy, how are Katarin and Ciana?” Duane asked, voice thick in his throat.

The girl turned and looked at him, then looked at her feet. “There’s been no change that I’m aware of. The doctor’s downstairs with them now, and he’ll probably be able to tell you more than I can.”

“Thank you.” He turned and headed for the stairs.

“I’d better go with him, too. I’m sorry, Nancy,” Terra said.

“Don’t worry, Mama Terra. We can talk later, when you’re less busy. I’d better get back to work, too, in case someone else comes in here needing help. It’s so busy being a nurse!”

The queen smiled at her, then she and Celes hurried down the stairs after Duane. The corridor-like room that had led to their secret hiding-space ten years before had changed, too. Instead of the crates and broken furniture that had previously lined it, white enameled wood-and-glass cupboards with brass locks stood sentry all down the hallway. Here and there a few more of the pleasant potted plants dotted the walls, and mirror-backed sconces gave off plenty of light. Here, too, the walls had been plastered, lending a wholly antiseptic look to the place. Terra nodded approvingly as they walked up to a heavy wooden door.

Duane led them through, and the queen squinted, looking around the room. Something in the varnished oak-paneled floors seemed familiar, as did the dais with its half-dozen beds awaiting patients, but the walls had been plastered white and cupboards and a sink had been installed. “Is this…?” she began.

The young man nodded. “This is where you took care of us. The doctor had it fixed up into more than just a cave because it was the largest space in the building.”

“And who’s the doctor?” Terra asked.

“I am,” a throaty voice greeted them. Three heads turned, and three pairs of eyes lit on a smiling face framed by wisps of chlorine-green hair that had escaped his ponytail. A pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on his long nose, too small to hide his friendly topaz eyes. His white jacket was as spotless as the walls over his serviceable brown trousers and black shoes. In one hand he held a clipboard, which he put down on a tabletop when he approached them. “I am pleased you found her, Duane. Terra, it has been quite a long time, has it not?”

The queen peered at his face for a long moment, then blinked rapidly. “Gau?”

“Yes, it is I.”

“But…how…?” she stammered.

“How are my wife and daughter doing?” Duane interrupted.

“No better than before, I am afraid. Your wife remains comatose, and your daughter has yet to end her weeping. I do not understand the reason for their strange, sudden conditions. I give Ciana water each half hour to prevent dehydration, and I feed them both at regular intervals. I have tried several of my own remedies, but so far they have failed.” He sighed. “I’m at my wit’s end.”

“Well, maybe Mama Terra can do something to help,” Duane suggested hopefully.

“Maybe,” she echoed, “But I doubt there’s anything I can do if Gau has tried all he knows. Where are they?”

“Just up here.” Gau led her onto the dais to the two end beds. Celes and Duane followed, the latter ringing his hands.

The queen checked the pulses of the two patients, brushed their foreheads with one cool hand, and shook their shoulders, hoping for a response. Then she stepped back. “I assume you’ve tried all the standard remedies? Tonics, potions, elixers, and the like?”

“Naturally I tried those first. I, too, am partial to the old standbys, but they had no effect. I have noticed that they aren’t the cure-alls they once were.”

“Probably because the old ones were made with a little magic in the process, and since magic disappeared from this world when the Espers left, they aren’t as good as before,” Celes said.

“So that means you can’t just…?” Duane made a gesture with his hand.

“‘Cast a spell on them’?” Terra finished. “No, I haven’t had that power for ten years now.” She straightened. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have much medical knowledge that would be of use today. But I do have full use of Setzer’s airship. When he returns from Figaro, we could go find another doctor. One who specializes in…” she turned to Gau. “What do you think they have?”

“Katarin is in a coma, of that much I am certain. I know no cause for Ciana’s condition, nor do I have a name for it. Perhaps some form of psychosis; her lack of response and endless weeping suggests something in the mind. It could be genetic.”

“And show up at the same time?”

The doctor shrugged, a sheepish look stealing over his face. “It is just speculation. Aside from that, I have nothing else to offer. Well, that, and my continued care for these two patients.”

“Well, then, when Setzer returns, Locke, Celes, Edgar, he, and I will go look for someone who can help cure Katarin and Ciana. How does that sound?” Terra asked Duane.

“You’d do that?” he asked from where he knelt, holding his wife’s hand.

“Of course I will. I promised all you kids that when you needed me, I’d be there to help you, didn’t I? I’m not going to leave you when you need help.”

“Thank you, Mama Terra.”

Celes, Gau, and Terra started walking towards the door, and the doctor said, “Who came with you?”

“Setzer brought us here from South Figaro. It’s just Locke and me and Terra,” Celes answered.

“What about Edgar?” he asked.

Terra looked down at her feet, and Celes replied, “He’s been under the weather, but Setzer left for Figaro to give him the medicine we bought.”

“So you will remain in Mobliz for several days, then?”

“Since we have nowhere else to go, yes.”

Gau smiled. “Perhaps, then, we shall have the chance to get together and talk. At which inn will you be staying?”

“We don’t know yet,” Terra replied. “Wait, there’s more than one?”

“Yes. With the influx of foreign goods, some merchants have started inns for their captains and passengers. The Rosy Warrior is both inn and tavern, and is the only one in town owned by a native.”

“You remember Kieth, don’t you, Mama Terra?” Duane asked. “He runs it.”

The queen nodded, trying to imagine the buck-toothed little boy as an innkeeper. “The one who could never remember where he left his shoes,” she said after a moment.

“Yup,” Duane chuckled. “I’m sure he’d let you stay for free if you went there. It’s just off the square.”

“I don’t know if I can just not pay, but thank you anyway.”

“I shall come visit you tonight,” Gau said. “A pair of nurses comes to look after patients in the evening hours, allowing me the free time to enjoy myself. I normally do not need their help except when sleeping, but, as I have not seen you in awhile, I wish to spend some time talking about the world beyond Mobliz.”

“That would be great,” Celes said.

“Yes. Just ask for our rooms at the desk if we’re not in the common room…I assume there’s a common room,” Terra said.

“That is correct. Goodbye, then, until tonight,” Gau said, then he turned back to his patients. The two women replied in kind then walked out of the main room, through the hallway, and up the stairs.

Nancy looked up from her work as they walked towards the door. “Can you do anything for them, Mama Terra?” she asked.

“Nothing directly, but I can try to find someone who can,” the queen replied.

“Well, that’s something, at least. I knew you wouldn’t forget about us!” the young woman exclaimed cheerfully.

Terra nodded. “I’ll probably be back tomorrow to check in on them. Make sure Duane goes home at some point and gets some rest. The last thing his wife and daughter need are for him to collapse, too.”

“No problem! You take care, too, Mama Terra,” Nancy said.

The pair left the building and started walking through the wide cobbled streets in silence. The path to the central square was easily marked by the number of people walking towards it, and the sounds of morning sales drifted to their ears. Once they reached the square, they made their way to the benches around the statue and sat to wait for Locke. Terra sighed as she watched the bustle of the town that had seemingly grown up without her, wondering if all children turned out so well without an adult’s help.

“It’s strange to see it so big,” Celes said after a bit, and Terra looked up to see her friend smiling at her.

“A little, yes.” Terra laughed softly. “It’s amazing I’m even recognized here.”

“Why is it? They wouldn’t have survived without you. They know that, you know that. But they had to manage somehow after you left, didn’t they? You couldn’t have left Figaro for here; nor could you have brought them all there.”

“I suppose.” The queen watched a little girl chase a bigger boy who’d taken her doll between the legs of vendors and adults.

Celes patted her knee. “There’s Locke. It looks like he got the bird.” The woman stood and grinned as her husband brought the oversized wicker cage over to them. She waited until he put it down before brushing a light kiss on his lips, then saying, “We’ve seen Duane’s wife and daughter, and the doctor recommended an inn in town for us while we’re here.”

“Oh? Great, let’s go before these stupid birds start flappin’ around again.” Locke lifted the cage and held it out a foot or so from his body.

His wife bent and peered in. “They don’t look that bad, love.”

“Ya didn’t have to carry ‘em all the way from the airship. These things are nuts. No wonder Kohlingen never started usin’ ‘em. Waste of time ‘n good meat.” A rushing sound came from the cage, and Locke struggled to steady it with one hand. “See what I said? They’re a pain.”

“Only because you’re not treating them nicely, Locke. Would you like me to hold them for you?” Celes asked, eyes twinkling.

“Not when ya say it like that, no,” he replied.

Terra laughed, standing. “The inn should be nearby, if you want to get some rooms for us. And yes, I’m sure we can leave the birds there, Locke.”

“Great. Lead away, then.”

It didn’t take long to find the Rosy Warrior, and Terra smiled to herself when she saw the sign: a childish outline of a female knight surrounded by a pink-painted aura. “Remind ya of anyone ya know?” Locke laughed when he saw it.

“There’s your answer, if they love you for what you did, Terra,” Celes said. She patted the queen’s shoulder. Terra just beamed and walked into the building to ask after rooms.

 

——

 

That night, the three of them sat around a table in the tavern, light from the heavy candelabras glinting off the pewter mugs of ale before them. A loaf of bread sat in the center of the table, half devoured by the hungry guests, and steam rose from dark stew that filled the wooden bowls in front of them. Few other tables were occupied, but the boisterous conversations rising around them lent a festive air to the rustically decorated room.

Terra had her spoon in her mouth when Gau pulled out one of the stools and sat down. While she struggled to chew quickly Locke said, “Hey, glad ya made it.”

“Thank you, Locke. Good evening Terra, Celes. I see you are already eating; I apologize if I am late.”

Celes sawed off a hunk of bread and offered it to him. “No, we were just starting.”

The serving woman, another of the original children of Mobliz, Lisse, waddled up to the table. “Well, hello there, Dr. Jordan. Fancy seeing you here. But then, of course, you helped Mama Terra defeat that monster, naturally you’d come and visit.”

Gau smiled. “Good evening, Lisse. I trust your pregnancy is still going well?”

“I shouldn’t even have to ask this, but is there any way to speed it up? It’s so uncomfortable.”

The doctor chuckled. “Unfortunately not, though once this one is born I can have a discussion with you and Kieth about future children.”

Lisse tossed her head back and laughed. “Nah, I’ll be okay. Can I get you anything, Doc?”

“Some light ale, please, and a bowl of stew. I trust the meat is fresh?”

“For you, Doc, anything,” the woman said, noting his order on a slate she was carrying, then walking off to help someone else.

“‘Doctor Jordan?’” Locke asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t know ya even had a last name. I thought ya were just some wild kid from the Veldt.”

Celes jabbed her husband in the ribs, but the doctor just smiled. “I received that last name when I began my training. After we went our separate ways after defeating Kefka, I was at a loss for a path in life. I returned to the Veldt for several years, as I was still more comfortable among beasts than humans at that time. When I was about sixteen, I stumbled across an injured gentleman to whom I gave one of my last remaining potions. He asked my name and age; I gave them freely. He said I may have a gift for healing, and took me to Jidoor. That man was Raphael Jordan, who, shortly after the end of the war, began Jidoor’s medical school. Thank you,” he said to Lisse, who placed a frothing mug of ale in front of him. He took a healthy swig then continued, “There, I learned the correct method of speaking and how to heal many common illnesses and set broken bones. How to deliver babies, as well,” he said, smiling in the direction of the pregnant serving woman. “After I graduated, I chose to come here to Mobliz. As a child, they were always kind to me, and I wished to repay them those kindnesses by using what little knowledge I gained by studying medicine.”

“That’s really sweet,” Terra said.

“The last name, though…Jordan?” Locke insisted.

“While I was not adopted by Dr. Jordan—I refused him that honor, as my father still lives—he insisted I take his last name, as I do not know my own. I wear it proudly, as a gift from the man who shared his gifts with me. It was well-known at the school that I was a ‘charity case,’ one who was discovered rather than paid for, and I was not always treated fairly by the majority of my peers. Dr. Jordan was always fair with me, however.”

Terra nodded. “Maybe we should see him if nothing else works, then.”

Gau shook his head. “Unfortunately, he passed not many years ago. I have not kept in touch with the new director, though I suppose if you needed to you could speak with him.”

“Didn’t like him?” Locke asked, finishing off his soda.

“Not particularly, although he seems to be a proficient doctor.” Gau took a sip of his ale then nodded at the others. “But enough of my grievances. Please, tell me something of your own lives. Where do you plan on going after here?”

“We hadn’t really thought about it,” Celes admitted. “Where would you recommend, if we were trying to find out something about a rare disease?”

Gau thought a moment. “Perhaps Strago could be of assistance. Such a wise old man ought to know something, or at least have a book about it.”

Terra nodded. “I didn’t think of that. You’re probably right. Have you heard anything about them lately, though? I haven’t kept up with everyone as I should.”

“Setzer visits every six months or so and brings news. He seems to enjoy talking about Relm more than Strago, but from what he has told me, she is quite the talented young woman. Her paintings have won contests in art galleries around the world.”

“That’s amazing! I wonder if she’d do anything for us if we asked,” Celes said.

“It’d probably be expensive,” Locke muttered.

“She has to eat, too,” his wife shrugged.

“What about your own lives? Setzer often fails to mention more than a line or two about the rest of the Returners when he comes. I’ve contemplated writing a number of times, but I never seem to find the words or the time to describe my own life. Often it is nothing more than a local bug one of the children spreads, so I’m afraid my own letters would be rather dull. But please, tell me about your own lives,” Gau said.

Terra listened as Celes and Locke described their lively home in Kohlingen and the miscellaneous adventures of their son in the woods and hills nearby. Listening to their stories she couldn’t stop the envy from rising in her chest. Her friends’ family was so close, sharing in the exploits of their eight-year-old, that it made her own family seem like a charade. Her husband spent his days on the throne, her daughter traveled with friends, her son was either studying diplomacy or training in martial and weapon arts with her brother-in-law or the arms master at the castle, and Terra spent her days desperate for something to do.

Finally, she was unable to handle the strain anymore, and she stood abruptly.

“Are you okay?” Celes asked, interrupting her husband’s story.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

“Poor dear. You’ve been under so much stress lately, of course you would be. You have your key, right? Then why don’t you go to bed?”

“I think I will. I’m sorry, Gau. Be safe getting back home, good night.”

“Good night, Terra. Sleep well.”

She walked to her room and changed into her nightgown. The small bag she’d carried with her from the ship had just enough room for a change of underclothes and the old nightgown, though she wished she had remembered to add the miniatures of her family to one of the outer pockets before she’d left. She blew out the candle on the dresser and curled up on the bed, her fist tight around the locket containing the tiny portraits of her husband and twins that she always kept with her. _Though I wish it could be them with me tonight_ , she thought as sleep stole over her. _I hope I’ll be with them soon…_


	5. The Library

The next day was a flurry of activity. Terra devoted her morning and afternoon to visiting the families of her original children, desperately trying to make up for lost time by catching up with them. All were more than happy to see her, despite her apologies for interrupting their daily routines, and the now-grown children eagerly showed off their own children. Several of the children were named for the heroes of the war, and she smiled when she even came across a Leo. _Celes would be happy to know he isn’t forgotten, either_ , she thought, and filed that information away to share with her friend later.

Like Keith and Lisse, many of the children had married among their childhood group. It made the queen laugh to see the pairs, particularly Jym and Addie, who had hated each other as children. It seemed they could never stop hitting each other—Addie usually won—were the most active producers of children in Mobliz, much to the amusement of their friends. Far from being embarrassed, however, Addie proudly introduced Terra to her four children, grubby from playing in the yard: “Jym Junior, Terry, Ana, and Ellie. The little one in the oven is Cris if he’s a boy and Lea if she’s a girl.”

“But Addie, don’t you think you’re going really fast? You can’t be more than twenty now. You were tiny when I was taking care of you!” Terra exclaimed.

“Twenty-one last spring. And how is it too fast? I’m married, and I love my babies. This one will be my fifth in five years, but does it matter? I see what you must’ve felt for me ‘n Jym when we were kids. Mine may be a handful sometimes, but, Mama Terra, this is what you brought to this place. We older kids watched out for each other when you left, and now we watch after all the little ones. You gave us a family in each other, and that’s more than a lot of people have. All of my kids know everyone else’s kids; they play, they flight, they explore, and when they grow up, they’ll be a helluva lot closer than kids in Nikeah or Jidoor. They may not all be blood, but they’re family, and we all thank you for that, Mama Terra.”

Addie’s words haunted Figaro’s Queen the when she visited Katarin and Ciana late that afternoon and on into the evening, as she stood on the balcony adjacent to her room at the inn. “I gave them the gift of family,” she murmured, “so why is it so hard to keep for myself?”

“I don’t know, but it’s something you can tackle when you get home, your Highness.”

She looked over to see Setzer at her elbow. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Is Edgar here with you?”

The pilot bent and rested his elbows on the railing, letting his hands go limp over the side. “Since I’m back so soon, you ought to know the answer to that question.”

“No, then.” She sighed and looked out at the stars over the harbor.

“They tried. You have to give them credit for that. But none of the medicines did anything. I’m sorry, Terra.”

“It isn’t your fault, Setzer.”

“I know you’re disappointed, though. What do you want to do now? Want to go back home? Or are you working any miracles with that guy’s wife and kid?”

“I don’t have anything to help them. Gau suggested we look up Strago. It might be a good idea—he has a huge library, so even if he doesn’t know anything offhand, he ought to be able to find it in one of his books.” When he didn’t respond right away, Terra added, “But maybe you want to rest a bit before we leave. You’ve been flying a lot, and we don’t need you to collapse, too.”

“Nah, don’t worry about me.” Setzer’s white teeth flashed in the moonlight. “Flying’s a drug to me, it can keep me going no matter how tired I am. But you and the others will probably want to sleep in real beds tonight if you can help it. And since Locke’s already paid, you might as well.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll sleep on the ship, of course. Not that anyone would know how to steal it if they managed to get in, but I feel comfortable there.”

“All right. We leave for Thamasa tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll let Locke and Celes know when I go back downstairs. Or maybe you want to go down with me and tell them? They’re pretty worried about you, y’know. Don’t forget, Terra. Even if you’re unhappy, you’re still one of us, and that makes you practically our family.” The grin flashed again. “Which makes Locke and Celes married brother and sister.”

“Setzer!”

The pilot tossed back his head and laughed. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

Terra laughed with him. “It’s okay.”

He patted her shoulder. “C’mon down with me and chat for a bit. You’ll catch a cold if you stay out in this air too long, and we can’t afford for you to collapse, either.”

“Thank you, Setzer.” The queen turned and took one last look at the stars, then followed her old friend back inside.

 

——

 

 

The next afternoon the group, led by Setzer, entered Thamasa. The dirt path towards town was overgrown; nor did the weeds disappear when the dirt gave way to uneven cobbles virtually reduced to gravel. Looking at the houses, boarded up and falling into disrepair, Terra turned to Setzer. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

“Yup.”

Terra looked around, then hugged herself. “It looks so…cold. Dead.”

“Tragic, isn’t it? Let’s hurry. It looks like there’s a storm piling up in the distance.”

The queen and her friends hurried, but the rain caught up quickly and drenched them in moments. By the time they reached the glowing windows of a familiar cottage, rain had turned the main street of Thamasa into a murky bog. Setzer pounded on the door.

“Coming! One moment!” A voice from inside called, and the door opened. A curly-haired blonde with laughing eyes stood behind it, and her face broke into a radiant smile. “Setzer! Wow! I wasn’t expecting to see you again for months!” The girl threw her arms around his neck and brushed a friendly kiss on his cheek, and the pilot squeezed her back. She let go of him, laughing. “You’re all wet! Gross!” The girl looked beyond him to Terra, Locke, and Celes, and gasped. “You brought a crowd! Hi, everyone!”

Locke squinted through the rain. “Relm, that you?”

Relm grinned. “I was wondering if you’d recognize me.” Celes smiled, then sneezed, and the artist shook her curls. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m standing here, talking, and you’re all soaked right through! Please, everyone, come in! Take off your boots, please. I’m sorry it’s so muddy out there. It’s impossible to get anyone to fix the street, but I still don’t want you to track mud. Does anyone have a coat or anything?”

“No, we didn’t expect it to start up on us so quickly, otherwise I would’ve brought umbrellas,” Setzer admitted.

“Or at least a change of clothes,” Celes said, teeth gritted against chatter.

“Oh! Here, let me go up and get some towels. I’ll see what I have in the way of extra clothes. Sit down at the table—the fire’s lit in the stove. Setzer, Locke, if you could, drag the table closer. I’ll be right back.” Relm disappeared through the door and upstairs; the group could hear the old floorboards creaking as she tromped about above them.

Locke and Setzer did as they were told, and Terra and Celes sat down close to the fire. The queen was only uncomfortable, but Celes held her hands out to the blazing wood-burning stove. Terra saw her friend’s hands shake.

“What do you think?” Setzer asked.

Locke was removing his socks and hanging them over the back of a chair he drew close to the stove. “Whaddaya mean?”

“Can you believe that inside that woman is the girl we knew?”

Celes nodded. “Of course.” Setzer cocked an eyebrow in her direction. “Well,” the woman continued, “she was the youngest, so she had the most growing up to do. Ten years will change anyone’s appearance. Isn’t that right, Locke?”

The treasure hunter grinned at his wife. “I suppose so, though I find more gray hairs in your brush than mine.”

“Only because yours fall out too quickly to be brushed,” Celes retorted.

The friends shared a laugh, joined by one that sparkled like bells. They turned and looked at Relm, who was holding an armful of faded blankets. “I’m sorry, we don’t have any extra towels, but these blankets might do the trick for now. Will that be all right?”

“Of course, Relm.” Setzer stood and took the pile from her, then distributed them. Terra wrapped hers, a quilt worn with age, around her shoulders and instantly felt better.

“Would you like something to drink? Let me put on a pot of tea or something so you don’t all get sick.” The young woman bustled around the bright kitchen, walking carefully to avoid the puddles on the wooden floor. As she prepared cups she asked, “How are all of you? I haven’t seen everyone in a really long time! How’s Kohlingen?”

Locke smiled. “Pretty good. Nothin’ much goin’ on there. Quiet as ever, but its nice havin’ Dirk runnin’ around. Keeps us busy.” He reached over and squeezed his wife’s hand, and Terra felt the now-familiar guilt of keeping her friends away from their own responsibilities. She reminded herself to tell them to go home once they returned to the airship.

“Dirk? Oh, right, your son! He must be getting big now. Eight…isn’t he?”

“Yes, and just like his father,” Celes said.

“So the locals need to keep tabs on their wallets?” Relm turned and winked to lessen the sting of her joke. “How about you, Terra? Having fun running a kingdom?”

Terra accepted the steaming cup Relm offered her. “I don’t really do much running…Edgar does.”

“Oh? How is the old flirt? Still making passes, or has he calmed down in his old age?” Relm took the seat furthest from the fireplace and sipped from her own cup.

Terra stared at her refection in the copper liquid. “Um…”

Setzer stepped in. “Actually, we need to talk to you about that.

The queen clearly heard the amusement tempered by concern in the young artist’s voice. “I figured this probably wasn’t just a pleasure visit, particularly without Edgar or Sabin along to share the ride. So, what’s wrong?”

Briefly, Setzer outlined the conditions of both Edgar and the two girls in Mobliz. “We were hoping Strago might be able to find something in one of those old books of his that could help us at least define what’s going on. The doctors in Figaro are working on Edgar and Gau is taking care of Katarin and Ciana, but neither knows just what to do to heal them.”

“Gau?” Relm arched one stately eyebrow.

“Supposedly he started studying medicine a few years ago, and now he practices in Mobliz. I was surprised to find that out, too,” Celes explained.

“You learn something new every day.” Relm placed her cup in its saucer and stood. “Let me go get Grandpa. He should be awake by now. Then you can tell him what’s going on.” Again, she disappeared upstairs.

Setzer let out a long, low whistle. “That’s some girl, isn’t she?”

Locke glanced over at the pilot. “Sorry t’break into your fantasy, but ain’t she a bit young for ya? By about ten, fifteen years? ‘Sides, what ‘bout that opera girl? Maria?”

Setzer shook his head. “She broke up with me years ago. I thought I told you that.”

Terra cocked her head. “What happened?”

“Remember how we flipped that coin to see if I’d join the Returners, Celes?” The woman nodded. “Well, remember your end of the bet?”

“I’d have to go with you. What of it?” she asked.

“Well, not long after we fixed everything, when all of those stories were flying about the ‘amazing heroes’ and all that nonsense, she happened to hear an embellished version of that coin story. She decided to call it quits after that.”

“Didn’t you try explaining that you never would’ve married me?” Celes asked. “Or that I would’ve killed you first?”

Setzer shrugged. “I didn’t think it was worth it after the gifts I sent her returned blackened and mutilated.” He winced. “I didn’t even know you could _do_ stuff like that to plush moogle dolls.”

Locke was about to reply when they heard feet clomping on the staircase, and Relm walked into the room, a frail old man on her arm. His once sharp blue eyes seemed watery, and his bright clothing was wrinkled and stained. A wispy beard barely covered his chin. “Here we go, Grandpa. Sit down in the chair,” Relm said in a coaxing tone. “Do you remember these people, Grandpa?”

“No!” The old man warbled. “What are you doing, girl, letting strangers into this house! I should burn the lot of them!”

“No, no, Grandpa. These are our friends. That’s Terra, and those two are Locke and Celes. This is Setzer. You remember Setzer, don’t you, Grandpa? He came and visited us a few weeks ago.”

“I don’t know anyone by those names! They’re wanderers, drifters like your no-account father! Killed my poor Moira, he did. You should kick these people out, Relm!”

Relm sighed. “We fought with them ten years ago. Don’t you remember fighting together with them?”

“No!” Strago paused, then pointed one bony finger at Locke. “Wait! You! I remember you!”

Locke cocked his head. “You do?”

Strago nodded and tried to stand up in his chair, though Relm held him down. “I danced with you thirty years ago at a party! You were a sly old girl, but I managed to make you mine that night. Best time I ever had.”

Celes looked at her husband, obviously swallowing a snicker; Locke himself hid a grin. “I’m afraid you must have the wrong person.”

The queen looked over at Relm. “Is he all right?” she asked softly.

Relm smiled. “Don’t worry about Grandpa. He gets like this sometimes. Just ask your questions, then I’ll take him back upstairs.”

In the simplest terms possible Terra explained the situation. “Strago, could you please look through your library and see if you can find any information we could use?” she finished.

“I don’t do favors for hussies!” replied the old man, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Grandpa!” Relm exclaimed. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Not going to do it, no sirree. And you can’t make me.” The old man stuck his tongue out at the queen.

A few minutes passed in silence, which Relm broke. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can force him into it. He’s impossible when he’s like this.”

Celes nudged Locke with her elbow and raised her eyebrows, and he mouthed something foul. “Come now. If it’s the only way…” she said in her most reasonable voice.

Locke muttered, “I better be gettin’ somethin’ good for this.” Louder, he said in a remarkable imitation of a female, “Straggie, darlin’, won’t ya do it for little old Edna?”

Terra cocked an eyebrow, and Setzer stood and walked to the window, hand clamped over his mouth. Laughter glittered in Relm’s eyes. Strago broke into a grin. “Well, that’s a girl. I’ll do it, but only because you asked.”

“Really? You’ll help them, Grandpa?” Relm asked.

“Yes! I just said I would, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. All right, let’s go upstairs.” She reached over and took his hand.

Strago jerked out of her grip. “I can do it myself, you ninny!” He ran about four steps, then tripped over a bump in the floorboards and fell, hard. The room echoed with his wails.

Relm sighed, then scooped the little man up in her arms. “I’ll be back. Please, if you want more tea, it’s there in the pot. Help yourselves to food from the pantry, too. I don’t know how long this will take.”

“Thanks,” Setzer replied.

The group sat in silence around the table until the young woman returned. “I left him in his favorite chair in the study. He’ll probably sleep for a bit, but I wrote a note for him when he wakes up to remind him to start researching.” She sat down heavily in her chair and drained her cup of tea.

Softly, Terra asked, “Is he always like that?”

Relm laughed shortly. “He has good days and bad days. I think today’s one of his good days.”

“And the bad days?” Locke asked.

“Don’t ask.”

“Oh.”

Setzer refilled Relm’s cup. “He’s worse than when I was here last.”

“Yeah. The lack of magic must’ve addled his brain.”

Celes nodded. “I remember learning something about that when I was training. Something about magic keeping people alive and aware until death.”

“Because if it didn’t, then the person might go senile and cast some horrible spell and kill people without realizing he or she had done it. It’s true—living here, as a child, I remember some of the oldest mages would just…die. Here one day, gone the next, because the magic couldn’t sustain the weakened body. It would vanish all at once, and the person’s body would just cave. But since there’s no more magic, a lot of people in Thamasa had a hard time adjusting. Some people just went nuts, especially if they were in the middle of spells when the magic vanished. Other people…well, Thamasa was always a place for outcasts, people with magical gifts who were kicked out of their homes.”

“Why’d someone do that?” Locke asked.

Relm shrugged. “Fear. Fear and…well, no. Just fear. Well, a lot of people tried to back to their homes, then returned here, bitter that they still weren’t accepted. Grandpa was mad at those people. Called them ‘ungrateful pigs’ for abandoning the place that raised them. And the young people…most of them left to find jobs in the outside. Not many people are left, now.”

“That’s why so many houses were boarded up, then,” Celes said, nodding.

“Isn’t it lonely here?” Terra asked.

Relm shrugged again. “A little yes, I suppose. I keep busy. I have my painting, and, of course, I take care of Grandpa. There are still some old Thamasians who stayed. Someone runs the store, and there’s a healer in case of minor emergencies. A few others, too. When I put my art in competitions, I have an old friend who represents me and accepts any award on my behalf.”

“You don’t leave?” asked Celes with raised brow.

“Haven’t been off this island in years,” came the reply. “I did, once, when I was about fifteen. Grandpa was just starting to go senile then. I left him with that friend of mine and took my piece. I was gone about five days, total. Setzer flew me.” Relm smiled at him; Terra didn’t miss the look in the pilot’s eyes. “Well, when I came back, I found out that Grandpa had gone ballistic while I was gone. Completely uncontrollable. I spent most of the prize money on repairs. Now, I insist my friend goes for me, and I stay and watch Grandpa.” She grinned. “Not that it takes much convincing on my part to get her to do it.”

Setzer laughed and Celes said, “You’re very strong to do this for him. Most people your age would be off running around.”

“Oh, no,” Relm replied. “It’s not that big a deal. Look, here I am, droning on about myself. You guys probably have somewhere important you need to be.” The girl stood quickly and started collecting the empty cups. “The rain sounded like it stopped when I was upstairs; probably just a late-winter storm. Nothing to worry about. The street will be a mess, but—”

Setzer stood and patted the young woman’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s late, anyway, and we were flying practically all night. We weren’t planning on leaving until tomorrow morning, anyway.”

Locke, Celes, and Terra all shared a look: _That’s news to me_.

Relm grinned, though. “Good. I’d offer you a place to stay tonight, but I’m afraid there’s not much room here. It’s probably a long way to the airship, too…”

“What ‘bout the inn?” Locke asked.

The artist shook her head. “It closed down a few months ago. It changed hands a couple times, but finally the last owner decided there was no way he could to turn Thamasa into a tourist trap, so he closed up and left.” She paused and lifted one hand, soapy from the sink, and tapped her chin. “Actually, the building should still be pretty solid. I think if you could get inside you’d be fine for the night. The last owner probably left all of the old mattresses, but if you want, you could take those blankets with you. I assume you’re going to come back and say goodbye before you leave; you could just leave the blankets with me then.”

Locke grinned. “I think I can get us inside.”

Relm laughed. “I don’t doubt it. Would you like to go over there now and rest for a bit? I can make dinner for everyone, too, and if you don’t leave too early tomorrow, I may even be awake to provide you with some breakfast.”

Before anyone else could respond, Setzer bowed grandly. “It would be our pleasure.”

 

——

 

Late that night, Terra shot up in bed awake from a dream of glowing red eyes and pale statues. Gasping for air, she looked around the dusty room. Moonlight streamed in through the broken window across from the bed, illuminating the figures of Locke and Celes curled up in the beds they’d pushed together. Swallowing hard, the queen looked towards the rumpled blanket on Setzer’s bed. She took a deep breath, trying to decide whether or not a man lay under the crumpled cloth, then a wave of exhaustion swept over her. Terra lay back on the bed and slept.

 

——

 

Relm stopped toying with a spoon long enough to glance at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Seven twenty-eight,” she murmured. “Still have almost half an hour.”

She’d been out of bed since six, and in the meantime started soaking a tub of laundry, scrubbed the downstairs—windows included—and prepared breakfast. A pot of coffee sat bubbling on the stove next to a big pot of oatmeal. A wooden bowl of dried fruit sat in the middle of the table. She had enough dishes for everyone, _Barely_ , she thought with an ironic grin, and had been sitting for the past fifteen minutes waiting. _Should I go get some milk? Or eggs? Stevin’s store would be opening about now, and even if it wasn’t, he’d let me in, I’m sure, since I’m just about his only customer_. She looked at the clock again, then shook her head. “Not enough time. And what if Grandpa woke up?”

The artist sighed and tossed the spoon back in the pile, then dropped her head into her palms. The thought was a familiar mantra, had been since she was fifteen and Strago started showing more signs of his age. As often as she thought it, its familiarity didn’t take away the sting. “Everything I do revolves around him,” she murmured to the scarred tabletop. “Plan half an hour for a ten minute trip to the store. Worry that he’ll fall down the stairs or have a stroke every second I’m not in the house. And I can’t even take him with me.” The memory of the last time she’d brought him to the tiny general store was still fresh in her mind: Strago throwing a fit because she refused him some treat, his flailing resulting in the collapse of a display of jarred fruit and a colossal mess. She’d paid for it out of pocket, of course, and it meant that now, in the end of winter, there was no syrup-preserved fruit for anyone in Thamasa.

“All five houses, anyway,” she said softly. “Soon to be four. Then I’ll need to find someone else to take my paintings to exhibitions, since Danae will be gone.” Her oldest friend had revealed shortly after Setzer’s last visit that, when the first spring traders came, she’d be leaving with them. “There’s a whole world out there, Relm. I get glimpses when I go out for you, but they’re like smelling the pie. I want to _taste_ it. I want to find a guy to kiss, at least.”

Nor could the artist blame her. “Me, too. It’s horrible, isn’t it? Past twenty and never been kissed. Too bad all the young men left this place.”

Danae had smiled, trickiness in her eyes. “Too bad. Maybe I could ask your pilot friend to kiss the both of us, so we’d at least know that much.”

Relm sighed again. Setzer. She’d been surprised when he came back again so soon—while he visited more often than her other friends, she didn’t expect to see him again for several months. But he’d returned with Terra and the Coles in tow. “And last night…” He’d come and seen her, his grin warm against the chill of the night.

_“I wondered if you were up, and if you’d like to talk,” Setzer said, stepping into the vestibule._

_“I’ll be awake for awhile. Come in, take a seat. I’m just finishing up the dishes, but I’ll put some tea on,” she replied, padding back across the floor._

_“You don’t have to,” he said, plopping down in a chair. But Relm filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove, then returned to cleaning out the big bowl she’d used to heat up some leftover soup._

_“Well,” she said, feeling his eyes boring into her back, “what do you want to talk about? Anything in particular?”_

_“No, not really, I suppose. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d come talk to you. I hadn’t thought so far ahead as to what we’d talk about, though. I guess I didn’t actually expect you to be awake.” She heard a smile in his voice._

_“So…” She grasped for words, and bought time by pushing an errant lock of hair behind her ear with her forearm, so as not to get it soapy._

_“Your grandfather…he’s not doing as well as when I was here last?”_

_“No, not really. He’s still hanging in there. Stubborn as a two-year-old chocobo who won’t take a saddle.”_

_Setzer laughed. “And just as annoying?” he asked, finishing the cliché._

_“I wouldn’t call him ‘annoying,’ but...” Relm looked over and winked. Setzer laughed again. “It’s more of the situation itself than anything else, really. I wish I could just go out on day trips again. No one will watch him for me, though. Not that there’s really anyone left to watch him. You know, I haven’t even been as far as Ebot’s Rock in years because I can’t leave Grandpa alone.”_

_“What about your paintings? I saw some of your work the last time I was in Jidoor. They were on auction.”_

_“Yeah, Danae was kind enough to take them for me.”_

_“Well, they were beautiful. The sunset off the coast of Nikeah, a garden in Doma, herds on the Veldt…if I’d had the GP I’d’ve bought one.”_

_Relm blushed, but hid it behind a curtain of steam as she poured two cups of tea. “Thank you.”_

_“Thanks.” Setzer took the proffered cup and sipped, then continued, “What I’m saying is, how can you do them if you haven’t been able to get away?”_

_“My imagination. Memories. I know they’re not right, but I can’t draw them from life. I draw landscapes, not towns, because the towns have changed more than I could paint without seeing them. Maybe in ten, fifteen years, I’ll start painting South Figaro or Albrook from memory, pawn them off as old-timey reminiscences.”_

_Setzer smiled at her. “I could take you there, if you wanted.”_

_Relm sighed. “We’ve had this conversation before.”_

_“I mean it. I’ll take you and Strago, we’ll pack up this house, and we’ll go wherever. You name the place, I’ll drop you there and take care of your grandfather while you paint. It wouldn’t be hard.”_

_“Grandpa wouldn’t make it. He’s old, he needs his stability. He built this house when he was young, with his own hands. Probably a little magic thrown in, too. But I owe it to him to keep it as long as possible. I can paint from here as long as I need to.”_

The pilot had left not long after that, thanking her for the coffee and the conversation, but sleep hadn’t come easily for her afterwards. His words tumbled about in her mind, wrestling like rambunctious children. She looked around the kitchen. “How could I even think to leave this place?” she asked aloud. “Grandpa built it. I know every cranny. I know where to chink the walls extra deep to keep the warm in during the winter. I know where the floorboards are loose so I can store my extra money and favorite brushes against thieves…not that there are thieves here any longer. They wouldn’t waste their time with a hole like Thamasa.”

Relm looked at the clock again. Seven fifty-six. She stood and walked over to the stove and stirred the oatmeal, scraping the bottom of the pot to mix the slightly burnt bits in with the barely warm ones. Softly, she said, “I wish I didn’t have to take care of Grandpa so I could go out and live my life while I’m still young enough to live it!”

A knock on the door and the creak of leather hinges broke her reverie. “Relm? Are you here?” Setzer called.

She walked over, a smile splitting her lips. “Of course. Come in. How’d you all sleep?”

“It was a little cold,” Celes replied crisply, “but only because someone wasn’t watching and the fire died out sometime during the night.”

Locke winced. “I said I’m sorry. The bed was really comfortable. Besides, haven’t I been punished enough? Cold feet in the back are harsh!”

They laughed, and Terra pulled her blanket from around her shoulders, folded it, and offered it to Relm. “Thank you for loaning us these. The innkeeper had taken his.”

“You’re welcome.” Relm took the others’ blankets and piled them by the stairs. “Sit down, I’ve got breakfast for everyone.” She picked up the pot while her friends sat around the table, and she began filling bowls and passing them around. “It’s just oatmeal, so it’s not much, but I hope it fills you up, at least.”

“It smells great,” Setzer said.

When the last bowl was filled and coffee sloshed in each of her friends’ mugs, Relm smiled. “I’ll be back in a moment. I’m going to see if Grandpa is up and bring him down for breakfast. That way you can remind him of your request yourselves.”

“Will he have forgotten?” Celes asked.

Relm spread her hands wide. “I don’t know, but it’s entirely possible. It’s touch and go with his memory, as you saw last night. I’ll be down in a few minutes. If you want more, please, help yourselves.”

The artist ascended the stairs, then knocked at one of the two doors on the landing at the top. Behind one door was her bedroom; the other, behind the door on which she knocked, was her grandfather’s study and bedroom. At thirteen she’d helped her grandfather and a few neighbors build the walls, insisting on her privacy as she “became a woman.” Not a day now passed when she wished she hadn’t been so stubborn, if only so she could keep a closer eye on her grandfather.

She knocked again, then opened the door. “Grandpa? Are you awake?” In the light of the guttering candle she saw the old man slumped in the wingback chair at his desk. A thin trail of drool reflected the light, and Relm picked up a washcloth from the washstand near the door. “Silly Grandpa,” she said, walking over to him. She put her hand on one of his shoulders and wiped the drool away. “You know you should climb in bed when you’re sleepy. I’ll bet you were up all night working, and now you’re so tired you won’t even eat breakfast. Hmm?” A frown crossed her lips as the rough cloth elicited no reaction from her normally sensitive grandfather. “Grandpa?” she asked. She shook his shoulder, then patted his cheek. His jowl was cold and clammy. “Grandpa, are you okay?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “Grandpa? Grandpa!” The rag fell to the floor as she dropped to her knees, shaking him. “Grandpa! Wake up! Oh, no! Somebody, help! Grandpa!” She was screaming, but her voice sounded far away to her own ears. Two words raced with her heart: _He’s dead_.

Boots thundered up the stairs, and through misty eyes she saw her friends walk in.

“What’s wrong?” someone asked.

“Grandpa, he’s…” Relm’s throat closed off the rest of her words.

Strong, steady arms pulled her away from the chair, and another voice, a musical female one, said, “He’s still breathing and his pulse is faint, but he’s still with us.”

“Ya think he’s injured?” someone else asked.

“No. Let’s move him to the bed.”

Their conversation continued, but a roar filled Relm’s ears and numbness overtook her body. Distantly, she thought she heard someone calling her name, and a hand turned her chin. Her eyes focused on a face framed with silvery hair. “Relm?” the person said. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, the movement forced.

“Relm, we’re going to take your grandfather to the _Falcon_. He’s going to come with us. We’re going to take him to Mobliz. Gau is going to take care of him, and we’re going to find out what’s going on with our friends and figure out how to cure your grandfather. Is that all right?” the same voice, smooth and calm, asked.

Relm nodded again.

“We’re going to take him, but you stay here. I’ll come back and check on you before we leave, all right? Just relax, Relm. Everything’s going to be all right.”

“Would you rather I waited here with her until you got everything settled?” another voice, soft as watercolors, asked.

“No, it will take all of us to carry him and the mattress. I’m worried about just leaving him on one of the _Falcon_ ’s bunks, since they’re so hard and high off the ground. If I have to make a sharp turn, I’d rather him roll off a mattress on the floor than off of one of those bunks. Are you ready? Count of three. One…two…three. Oof!”

Relm watched as if from outside herself as her friends gently hefted the mattress and her grandfather, then carried him out the door. The image of pallbearers rose in her mind, and tears slid down her cheeks. She barely noticed them.

Ages seemed to pass as guilt sent his stabbing pin-pricks throughout her body. All of the times she’d wished for freedom from servitude was another cut, each one deeper than the last. She recalled how, that very morning, she’d wished for something to happen to him, and now it had. _It’s all my fault for not watching him_ , she thought. _All my fault, all my fault_ , the words echoed in her mind.

Once more strong arms gathered her to a musky leather chest, and, as she watched the spot where her cheek pressed grow dark, she realized the horrible noises in her ears were her own sobs, the stains her tears. A voice murmured soothing sounds against her hair, and slowly the echoes in her mind faded. She pulled back, and realized she was sitting on a rug, a bookcase filled with crumbling tomes at her back. She blinked, and a wind-roughened hand not her own wiped away the tears.

“Feeling better?” that smooth voice asked.

“Thank you, Setzer,” she said, her tongue supplying the name without help from her mind.

“Don’t thank me yet, at least until I’ve helped your grandfather more. Now, can you stand for me, Relm?”

She realized that he was crouching to her height, one knee on the rug, the other splayed as to not jab her in the ribs. With his help she found her feet, and he held her steady when she swayed.

“Nice and easy, Relm. Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Let’s go downstairs and get a little food into you. I want to make sure you’re not going to collapse as soon as I leave.”

Setzer helped her downstairs, then to a chair in the kitchen. He placed a small bowl of oatmeal in front of her, then handed her a spoon, the dented one she’d been playing with earlier, she noticed. It felt like an eternity ago. Mechanically, she lifted a spoonful of oatmeal to her lips; mechanically, she chewed and swallowed. She felt his eyes on her as she repeated the process until her spoon scraped the bottom of her bowl.

“Feeling better?” the pilot asked.

She nodded. “Stronger,” she said. It was true; she managed to hold her head up of her own will. _Is this how Grandpa feels?_ she asked herself, then bit her lip to hold back tears.

“Would you like to come with us?” Setzer asked gently.

“No.” Relm swallowed hard. “I’ll stay here. I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind bringing you, and there’s plenty of room. I know you don’t like being separated from your grandfather.”

“I can’t do anything to help him,” she replied bitterly.

She felt Setzer draw her to him again, and he raised her to her feet in his embrace. “Don’t say it like that, Relm. I’m sure just being there would help.”

The young woman pushed herself away from him. “No. You need someone to stay here and take care of the research.”

“Everyone would understand if you came—”

Relm shook her head. “No. You came here looking for information, and since Grandpa can’t get it for you, I will. I may not know his library as well, but I’m sure I can find something that will help.”

Setzer nodded. “All right, then. Will you be okay here by yourself? I could stay, if you wanted me to.

She shook her head again. “They need you to fly the ship.” She looked at the wall clock, then stepped away from him. “You’d better hurry. You need to take care of Grandpa.”

She walked Setzer to the door and, opening it, watched him pull on his boots. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” he asked again.

“I’ll take care of myself, yes. And you fly safely.”

“I will. Send word by pigeon if you find out anything. You still have the ones I left for you last time?”

“Yes.”

“They’re trained—”

“To find you. I know.” Relm looked at the floor. “Thank you for doing this, Setzer.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome, Relm. Remember, take care. I hope you find something.” He bent and painted a light kiss on her lips. “Goodbye.”

The man was out the door and halfway to the dead fountain in the square when her mind registered what had happened. Her fingers slowly reached up and brushed her lips as she watched him walk off, the corner of his long leather trenchcoat flapping in the wind.


	6. The Plague

Terra climbed off the ladder leading to the _Falcon_ ’s deck and immediately wished she’d thought to bring her blanket up. Although they were well above the equator, where the summer steadily approached its end, the upper atmosphere made her teeth chatter. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed them vigorously. “Setzer?” she asked.

The pilot didn’t seem to hear her; or, if he did, he took no notice of her. She sighed and wondered again why _she’d_ been picked for this job. Locke had returned with Setzer, and as they took off, the treasure hunter told Terra and Celes what he’d seen. “Someone needs t’talk t’him about this. I mean, maybe it was just a friendly kiss or somethin’, but we gotta make sure.” And before she could say anything, Terra found herself volunteered for the job.

Now, she approached her friend and touched his sleeve. “Setzer?” she tried again.

The man jumped, and the _Falcon_ lurched. With practiced hands the pilot got her on track again, then looked at the queen. “Geez, warn me before you do that, your Highness!”

“I’m sorry. And please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, Terra.”

Silence stretched between them, and Terra stared out over the bow of the ship. Clouds flew past them as they soared, cold mist prickling her cheeks. She wished she could disappear in the fog.

Setzer cleared his throat, and the queen looked back at him. “It’s a little chilly just come up for a view,” he said.

“A little,” she admitted.

“So…how’s Strago doing?”

“He’s still unconscious. We don’t really know what to do. It’s been a long time since we’ve had to use field medicine, and back then…”

“There used to be magic. Right.” Setzer banked gently to the left.

Terra tentatively said, “We were waiting for you for a long time…did you manage to calm Relm down at all?”

“Yeah. She was doing better by the time we left.”

“That’s good.” Terra hoped her silence would invite further comment.

He bit. “I’m sure she’ll be all right. She was really upset, as I’m sure you can understand—” Terra nodded, “—but she told me she’d try to research in Strago’s place. She seemed really grateful for our help.”

“I’m glad we could.”

Setzer looked over at her, trapping Terra within his gaze. “There’s something you’re not telling me, your Highness.”

Her lips smiled, but her eyes did not. “One could say the same of you.”

Setzer’s expression mirrored her own. “What do you mean? I’m an open book, if one asks the right questions.” His smile vanished. “Tell me, Terra. What’s wrong?”

“Locke says he saw you kiss her.” Terra looked away, embarrassment touching her cheeks..

“Ah. That.” He laughed, but it sounded forced. “It was nothing. Just a kiss between friends.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve never heard of that before, Terra? Don’t your courtiers kiss before they part?”

“Not really. Not that I’ve seen.”

“Ah, I see.”

Terra sighed and looked at him again. “You’re the one who’s lying now, though.”

He adjusted some knobs on the controls. “Oh, really?”

“I saw the way you watched her last night, and I woke in the middle of the night, you weren’t in your bed.”

“I felt like a chat, and the rest of you were asleep.”

“Setzer—”

“I don’t know why I’m having this conversation. My affairs are my business and concern no one else.” Terra winced at his word choice, and she saw him do the same. She almost smiled. “My business, I mean. My business is my business.”

“Setzer, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Of course you did. You were sent up here to tell me that my feelings for Relm are bad and that I should stop having them right this moment because she’s too young for me. Am I right?”

Terra was silent.

The pilot sighed. “I don’t see why it makes a difference to any of you, so just leave me alone, all right?”

“All right,” the queen replied softly. She walked to the railing and stared out at the fog for a time. After a few minutes, she walked over to the ladder and went back inside, where it was warm.

 

——

 

Setzer pulled back on the tiller, gaining height and speed. As the clouds rushed past him, tangling his silver hair, he screamed obscenities. It was one of his favorite pastimes, a holdover from a youth in flight. It made him feel better. Usually.

This was one of those rare times when he emerged above the clouds into a world of purest blue and virgin white, where the sun purified both color and soul, and felt as dirty as before. He flipped a switch, setting the autopilot, and walked to the bow and leaned against the sturdy rails. “I shouldn’t let them get to me,” he said, staring out. “There’s nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. She’s an adult, I’m an adult…who cares about the rest? It’s not like I drugged her or anything.”

A few wisps below him shone almost gold, reminding him of the way her hair curled over her forehead, and the image of her face rose in his mind. His lips almost tingled from when he’d kissed her. “She barely reacted,” he said, grinning. “She’s amazing. Yeah, I admit it, she’s young, but she’s got more responsibility in her body than most people my own age. Certainly more than me. Smart, talented, beautiful…Maria isn’t as pretty as her, and I haven’t met her equal in brains in fifteen, twenty years. So what do they care? So I’m in love…they ought to be happy.”

He turned and leaned backwards over the rail, forearms propping him up as he stared up into the sky. “Besides, who are they to say anything about age? Especially Terra. She and Edgar are years apart. Okay, so maybe not as many as me and Relm, but still. Same rule applies.”

A dark spot on the horizon caught his eye, and he did a double-take. Gritting his teeth, he strode back over to the tiller, turned off the autopilot, and veered sharply to the right. Though the thunderhead was still several miles away, it was growing by the second, and the last thing he wanted to do was get caught anywhere near it over the ocean. He put on speed, racing away from the approaching storm, and didn’t stop until he was certain he’d gone far enough to avoid it completely.

His hands caressed the teak wheel as he slowed to his normal speed, and he dipped the bow down until it skimmed the top of the clouds like a boat on the sea. Watching it, he smiled. “I’ll let her decide,” he said loudly. “I’ll let her decide what to do because I owe her that much.”

 

——

 

The sun had sunk below the horizon hours before when the party carried the mattress bearing a blanket-swathed Strago through the streets of Mobliz. They were careful as they walked, though the paving stones were less treacherous than those in Thamasa. They didn’t want to have to explain to Relm that her grandfather hadn’t made it to the doctor because of their own clumsiness.

Most of the lights were out in the houses they passed, making Terra wonder precisely how late it was, or whether her early bedtimes had stuck. Somehow she doubted it, but she thought about it until her foot caught on a cobble, and she forced her mind back to the task at hand.

Her arms were aching by the time they reached the converted hospital, and, rather than knocking, Setzer called out, “Hello, the doctor! Gau, are you there?”

Moments later, the doctor appeared at the door, his eyes worn and a curious expression on his face. “Welcome back. May I help you, friends?”

“Yeah, we got another patient for ya,” Locke replied through gritted teeth.

“Please, bring him in.” Gau stepped aside to give them room to enter. “Who is it?”

They set the mattress on the floor. “You remember Strago, don’t you?” Setzer said.

“Of course.”

“He’s unconscious, and we were wondering if you’d mind another patient.”

“I could never refuse one, particularly not a man with whom I traveled. Allow me to take him so I may examine him.” The young man bent and scooped Relm’s grandfather up effortlessly, and Terra wondered at the strength in those scrawny-seeming arms. “Please, follow me.”

The queen walked behind him, but her ears caught Celes saying something about getting rooms at the inn. Another pair of boots followed Terra, and she heard the whisper of heavy material skidding down the stairs behind her. Setzer. She didn’t turn to check if she was right; the wound of his words still ached.

With utmost efficiency and professionalism, Gau lay the old man down on a bed near the ones where Katarin and Ciana lay. Terra walked over to them and grimaced when she saw the leather straps binding the child to the bed so she wouldn’t flail about and hurt herself. As it was, her head lolled from side to side and periodic moans escaped her parched lips. Terra spotted a glass on the table beside Ciana’s bed, and she filled it with cool water from a nearby pitcher. The queen knelt and lifted the girl’s head, then slowly gave her sips of the water. Her skin was warm to the touch.

In Terra’s mind arose the image of her son, Dylan lying in bed burning with the desert fever. Though Edgar and the palace doctor had insisted it was a common childhood ailment in Figaro, much like the chicken pox, she’d spent many nights beside her son’s bed as he tossed and turned from heat-induced hallucinations, holding his hand, mopping his forehead with damp rags, and feeding him sips of water and broth. Terra swiped at her eyes, sniffed, and stood. The child before her reverted back into that of Katarin’s daughter, and she turned away before her emotions could take complete control of her.

Gau had stripped Strago and placed a clean cotton sheet over his lower body. The corner of one discolored garment hung out of a small metal can beside the bed. Without the baggy clothes the old man looked impossibly frail, his body stained with liver spots and folds of wrinkled flesh hanging off his arms and neck. His harsh, phlegmy breathing seemed worse in the cavernous room.

The queen swallowed hard. “Is he all right?”

Pulling the buds of his stethoscope from his ears, Gau nodded. “He appears so. His breathing is abnormal, as I am sure you can hear, and his heartbeat is not strong. He is alive, however. What happened? I imagine that this happened recently.”

Setzer nodded. “This morning. We went to Relm’s for breakfast before we left, and suddenly she was upstairs screaming. We found him like this and hurried here with him.”

“I see.”

“Will he be okay?”

Gau stood. “When he wakes, I imagine he may be. My hypothesis is, he had either a pulmona—” He stopped, seeing their confused faces. “Pardon me. Either a heart attack or a stroke,” he finished. “He will likely be weak, and, if he had a stroke, when he wakes, his motor functions and memory may be affected. It is quite possible he will not be himself, regardless of what happened.”

Terra waited from a snappy quip from the pilot about Strago not being all there in the first place, but she was surprised when none came. She glanced at him, then at Gau. “I’m sorry for bringing you another patient when you already look after an entire town.”

He smiled. “Please, do not trouble yourself, Terra. I am pleased that you have brought him here to me. Let us go upstairs and talk and let our patients rest.”

The group followed Gau back onto the main floor, then through a wooden door into a sparsely furnished room. From the desk in the middle and the chairs pulled before it, she imagined it was the doctor’s office, but a bed had been pulled down from a cabinet in the wall, suggesting it also served as his bedroom. Eyeing the rumpled sheets, she said, “I’m sorry to we came so late.”

“There is no need to be concerned,” Gau replied, sitting behind the desk. “As a doctor, I am used to late-night emergencies. Please, have a seat.” Terra and Setzer sat. “I suppose, as you have returned so quickly, there was no time for any research to be completed.”

“I’m afraid not,” Setzer said. “We went to Relm’s and asked Strago last night, but I doubt he discovered anything between then and this morning, when we found him. He’s been showing his age for a long time, and he probably forgot what we asked him to do by the time he was back upstairs.”

“I understand.”

“Relm said she’d look up some stuff for us, though. She didn’t guarantee she’d find anything, but she promised to check.”

“That is good.”

“What should we do in the meantime?” Terra asked. “Who else should we ask?”

“How about at your old school, Gau? Think we’d find anything there?” Setzer added.

The doctor scratched the pale scruff on his chin. “I believe I said before I neither like nor trust the new director, but, as we have few other options…” He looked Terra in the eyes, his golden irises searing into her deepest thoughts. After a moment, he looked at Setzer and said, “I shall write you a letter explaining the situation. It is unlikely he will turn down the request of an alumnus, regardless of his personal feelings towards me. Return here tomorrow morning before you leave and I shall have everything prepared for you.”

Terra smiled. “Thank you, Gau. We appreciate the help.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Setzer said.

“It is no trouble. I would like to help my patients as much as is in my power. I regret I am not able to do more with my own knowledge.” The doctor stood and led them to the front door. “I believe your friends will have secured rooms at the inn. I hope you sleep well, and please remember to retrieve the letter tomorrow morning. I shall leave it with my nurse.”

“Thank you again,” the queen said. Hope flickered in her heart as she walked towards the inn, and she fell asleep that night smiling.

 

——

 

Two days later, Terra walked with Celes down the broad boulevard towards the medical school in Jidoor. They had hoped to visit the night before, but they had been turned away by closed gates and a guard. After a night in a moderately well-appointed inn, however, Terra felt prepared for meeting with the director. Morning sun beat down on them, and the moisture already hanging in the air promised a miserable late summer day.

The morning, though, was nice enough, particularly for one accustomed to the desert. A gentle breeze ruffled the brilliantly green leaves of the ornamental trees behind their wrought iron fences, and the last of the summer flowers were opening their petals to relish their final days. A few employees of the boutiques they passed were preparing to open the stores, and the barks of dogs on their walks with their masters’ servants barked loudly as the women walked by. Terra stretched leisurely, then smiled. “It’s great to wake up in a place so beautiful as this. It makes me feel like we’re really going to accomplish something. Like everything’s going to be all right.”

“You’re acting like a child,” Celes said.

Terra looked over at her. “Huh?”

“Your face. It’s like you’ve never been to a big city before.”

“Well, I don’t get out of Figaro much. You know that. And what’s wrong with enjoying the sights? It’s all so pretty.”

“It’s unnatural.”

“What?” Terra stopped.

Celes stopped and shook her head. “I don’t mean you. I mean all of this.” She pointed at the trees. “They’re not sculptures, but the people here treat them as such. It’s ridiculous. It’s a waste, all of this. I mean, look.” Celes pointed again, this time at an ornate marble fountain in the square behind them. “The money they spent on that to honor some rich old man could’ve been used to pay kids from Kohlingen or Maranda to work here.”

“It was probably the city who paid for it, though.”

“It doesn’t make a difference. It was a waste of money to put that piece of junk there.” Celes caught Terra’s grin. “What?”

“Celes Cole, speaker for the poor. Who would’ve thought?” the queen replied.

Her friend returned Terra’s smile, but there was a wistful note in her voice when she spoke. “I have to clean off the blood somehow.”

Terra nodded solemnly.

After a moment, Celes began walking again, and Terra hurried to catch up. “Where was this place again?” asked Terra.

“Not far. We just turn up here at Owzer’s house, then make a right.”

“It was a lot easier to navigate Jidoor before the war.”

“A lot of things were easier before the war,” Celes said, stone-faced.

“Do you really think Locke will be able to convince Setzer this whole Relm thing isn’t a good idea?”

“I don’t know, but I’m willing to bet he’ll bring up some things Setzer hadn’t had about it. Hopefully, our pilot will be mature enough to take those thoughts into consideration.”

“Hopefully,” the queen agreed.

They stopped, and read the sign on the tall brick fence. “‘Jordan Medical Research and Education Facility.’ I think this is right,” Terra said, matching it with the sheet of paper Celes held.

“I think this is solid gold,” the other woman replied, and she scratched the engraved metal plate with one fingernail. “It certainly dents like gold.”

“We’ll get Locke to come here later and take it for you, then. Or you can voice your complaint inside. Let’s go.”

Celes winked at her. “You think I’d need Locke to take this thing?”

Terra rolled her eyes. “Let’s at least get the information we came for, first.” She walked through the gate, and Celes followed, chuckling.

A long, wide path paved with chips of sparkling granite led to a building enormous even for Jidoor. Tall arched windows topped with stained glass designs stood at regular intervals between pillars of brick on the ground floor; the second and third story windows, though smaller, were no less elegant. The stairs they climbed to enter the building were marble, the door they walked through, inlaid mahogany. Behind her, she could feel the distaste radiating off her friend, and Terra hoped Celes would remain silent while she, Terra, spoke with the head doctor.

Behind a wide desk a bored-looking man rifled through a sheaf of papers. Terra stepped up to him and cleared her throat.

“Yes, may I help you?” he asked. His nasal voice ground on Terra’s ears.

“My companion and I wish to speak with the director of the school, if we may.”

The man looked both women up and down, and not for the first time that day she wished she’d thought to bring something more formal along on the _Falcon_ so she could at least look the part of a queen. The man coughed softly and said, “I’m afraid that Dr. Varr will only see people by appointment, and then only if others in the school have failed to diagnose them.”

“Neither of us are sick,” Celes said.

Terra’s glance stopped Celes from speaking further, and the queen continued, “I am Queen Terra Branford Figaro, of the Kingdom of Figaro, and I have come to this school seeking help for a number of ailing patients. I wish to discuss my situation with Dr. Varr immediately.”

The man cocked an eyebrow. “A queen? And your crown is in for repairs, I take it.”

“We came in haste and being waylaid by every gawking citizen would have delayed us.”

He nodded. “You understand, Dr.Varr won’t like it if I make an exception to his rules.”

“My husband the king will not like it if he learns his recovery was postponed because a secretary was afraid to anger his boss,” the queen replied calmly.

The man swallowed, then stood. “If you care to follow me.”

“Thank you.”

The two women followed him down a well-lit corridor, past rows of dark-stained doors. Nameplates, also most likely gold, proclaimed the professors whose offices lay behind each door. Dr. Varr’s was at the very end of the hallway, his nameplate describing him as “Georg Varr, M.D. Director.” The words were surrounded by elegant engraving. Terra reached down and squeezed Celes’ wrist as a warning.

“If you could please wait a moment, I will announce you to Dr. Varr.” The secretary walked into the room, then hurried back out. “He will see you now.” The man held one of the large double doors open for them, then shut it behind them. The _click_ as it closed echoed in the wood-paneled office.

A rotund man sat behind a gleaming ebony desk in an oversized leather wing-back chair. Shelves of texts and filing cabinets lined the walls, and whisper-thin drapes diffused the light from the tall windows. Terra’s stomach began to unknot itself.

“Yes, may I help you…ladies?”

Terra stepped forward. “The Kingdom of Figaro greets you, Dr. Varr.” She nodded her head.

“I suppose you are royalty, then?” the doctor asked.

“I am Queen Terra Branford Figaro, and my companion is Celes Cole, former General of the Empire,” she said, swallowing her ire.

The doctor’s eyes roamed over her body, and Terra’s skin crawled. She kept her face smooth as Edgar had taught her.

“What do you want, then? I’m a busy man, and if you aren’t quick about it, you’re going to have to leave.”

Luckily, Celes held her tongue. Terra said, “I come in need of assistance for our ailing king, His Majesty Edgar Roni Figaro, as well as three other patients currently under the care of Dr. Gau Jordan, a former student of this school.” She stepped forward and offered Varr the letter.

He tore it open, scanned it, then tossed it aside. “Charity case couldn’t figure it out, then? Of course he’d send you here. Surprised her didn’t come back himself.”

Terra thanked the heavens that Celes remained silent. “He professed that he himself was not an expert of whatever ailment has befallen my king and the others. The symptoms are strange. I believe he described them in the letter.”

“Yeah, he described the other patients. Didn’t mention anything about this king, though.”

“His Majesty’s symptoms are not quite the same, and I admit that Dr. Jordan has not yet examined his Majesty—”

“Then why do you come bother me? I’ve got other things to be doing. Get that upstart kid to look at him, then.”

Terra’s face remained in its calm mask, but her eyes flashed. “I believe the amount of prestige curing his Majesty would bring to this school’s name should be enough of an incentive for you to assist us, Dr. Varr. However, if you insist, upon my return to Figaro Castle, I shall instruct a messenger to bring you a suitable reward and perhaps a healthy donation, as well.”

Varr appeared to think for a moment, then grinned. “You drive a hard bargain. What was it that was wrong?”

“Each of the patients fails to react to anything we do, be it touching the patient or calling the patient’s name. I believe the letter said that much.”

“Comas, then,” the doctor said, nodding. “I think I might know someone who can help.” He stood for the first time since the two women had entered and waddled to a filing cabinet. A few minutes later, he turned, holding an oiled leather packet. He sat and opened it. “Willard St. John. Graduated several years ago. He had a really weird obsession with coma patients. He’s probably the only one who could help you with this problem.”

“Where might we find Dr. St. John?”

Varr pulled a sheet of paper from the folder. “The last thing he wrote me was three months ago. Some strange case in Doma he wasn’t sure about.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” the doctor replied. “It didn’t sound like that big a deal, so I just ignored it. I’m sure he figured it out, and even if he didn’t, I doubt he’d leave Doma just because of one failure.”

Again, Terra forced down the anger burning in her chest like a white-hot coal, and she said in a tightly controlled voice, “Thank you for your assistance.” She turned and nodded to Celes, and they both walked towards the door.

“Wait,” the man said. They turned and saw him standing in front of his desk.

“Yes?” Celes asked.

“I don’t think I want the king’s reward as a price for helping you.”

“Oh? What would you like, then?” asked Terra.

“The king’s wife.” Varr stepped towards her, one hand outstretched.

Terra heard the _thunk_ before she realized what had happened. The hum of quivering steel reverberated in the room, and she saw a dagger buried in the ebony desk halfway to the hilt, pinning the director’s silk pant leg to the wood.

“Make one more move towards her and I’ll throw another one...about eight inches to the left,” Celes said.

The doctor laughed nervously, looking down and doing some mental calculations. “Right. Fine. Have a nice day, then.”

Celes touched Terra’s arm, and together they silently left the room, then the building.

They were far down the street when the ex-general let out an explosive breath. Terra, too, realized she’d been holding her own breath, and released it slowly through her mouth. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“I never thought I’d have to do that,” Celes replied.

“Where did you learn? I don’t remember them teaching us things like that in Vector.”

“Locke taught me while I was pregnant. He couldn’t take me along when he ran messages, this was before we started our antiques place, so he wanted to make sure I ‘knew how to take care of myself.’” The woman grinned. “Seems he forgot I know how to use a sword.”

Terra laughed. “Seems so. But won’t he realize one’s missing?”

“Right. Thanks for reminding me.” Celes reached down and slid a knife from her boot-top and put it in the sheath under her sleeve. “It’s not quite the same size, but it will do the trick until I can get another one from my bag.”

The queen stared at her friend. “How many of those are you wearing?”

“Several more, besides this. You don’t think I’d go out unarmed, do you? Especially to a strange place. Gau told you he didn’t get along with the new director.”

“True.”

They walked quietly for a bit before Celes said softly, “Could you do me a favor?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t mention this to Locke. It’s already going to be hard enough—he can look at me and tell how many blades I’m wearing—but I don’t want him to worry. Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it. Or be able to go five steps without him with me.” Terra laughed again. “I’m serious. He doesn’t take chances when it comes to Dirk and me. While it’s all touchingly romantic, it’s impractical and, frankly, pretty obnoxious. And, as you saw, I’m not some floozy who can’t take care of herself.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him. Not this time, anyway. If something like this happens again, though, I may, at least for my own protection.”

Celes nudged Terra with her elbow. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all those drills!”

“No, but I haven’t practiced in a long time, either.”

“Why not? Figaro’s got a great armory.”

Terra’s eyes sparkled. “The instructor forbade me from coming and sparring. He told me I was injuring too many recruits.”

The women shared a laugh, not caring about the number of richly adorned passersby staring at them as they walked back to the _Falcon_.

 

——

 

“Come again?” Locke asked, incredulous.

“I’m afraid his Majesty has taken ill and is unable to speak with you,” Chancellor Hayden repeated calmly.

“What happened? Cyan always seemed pretty strong t’me.”

“One week ago his Majesty was working with the new set of squires—he insists on handling the first sessions of their training personally—and he collapsed while doing so. The court physician, who runs things when the official doctor is unavailable, cannot make sense of it. However, I believe it is his age, as do others on the Inner Council. We have told his Majesty time and again that, at sixty-one, it is imperative for him to train his heir, rather than his squires. I sincerely hope he listens once he regains consciousness.” The chancellor made a sign against evil over his abdomen.

Terra shook her head. “A physician? Has he not been examined by your official doctor?”

“I’m afraid not. Several months ago a strange plague began spreading across the kingdom, beginning in the outer settlements. When Dr. St. John failed to receive word from the director of the medical school at which he studied, his Majesty in his graciousness insisted that Dr. St. John travel out to those villages to seek both cause and cure.”

“And he has not yet returned?”

“No. The plague seems to have run its course, if the letters from the local lords are to be believed; however, we have also received word that the doctor himself took ill while assisting his patients.”

Terra held in a sigh; Setzer, behind her, was not quite as diplomatic. “Figures,” she heard him mutter.

“Might I inquire as to how long it will be to speak with either his Majesty or Dr. St. John?” the queen asked.

Hayden shrugged. “Since we don’t know why his Majesty collapsed, I can’t tell you when he will wake. However, we received word just yesterday that the doctor had recovered enough to move him back to the castle. It appears that the medicine he devised worked for his case of plague, as well. It will be a few days, no more than three or four, I imagine, before he returns and is well enough to speak with you.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Celes asked. “I don’t know much about doctoring, but I do know some field medicine, if there’s anyone in need of assistance.”

“I thank the Powers that Be that Doma proper was spared the worst of the plague. Once we heard about it from the outlying villages, his Majesty saw fit to quarantine the city. Recently we opened our doors once more, as we have not heard of new cases since three weeks past. I doubt there would be much work for you to do, my lady, but if you wish to go to the ward, I’m certain there may be a few broken bones and cuts that could use mending.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“But where are my manners?” the chancellor said, spreading his arms expansively. “Please, you must be exhausted after your journey. Make yourselves at home here. I shall show you to the guest rooms, and I will see that fresh clothes and refreshments are provided for you. Dinner is at six-thirty; I shall send messengers to bring you when the time comes. I’m certain his Highness, Crown Prince Slone, will be honored at your presence. No doubt he would enjoy hearing about your adventures.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Terra said. She bowed, wishing she was wearing a dress so she could do so properly.

“You’re welcome, your Highness. Now, please, if you and your companions would follow me…”

 

——

 

The queen woke the next morning in a sumptuous apartment, feeling more refreshed than she had in the past several weeks. The mattress was thick and the down comforters molded to her form; everything, even the armchairs near the fireplace in the parlor, were padded so with down that she found it difficult to stand. Her toes were almost lost in the plush rugs warming the wooden floor, and the heavy gold velvet drapes were pulled to allow morning sun into her chambers.

Tying a leather thong around her hair to keep it in a ponytail, she smiled at her reflection in the polished bronze mirror. She seemed a bitter contrast to the luxury of her surroundings; the worn tunic and hose she’d requested from the maidservant assigned to her was just slightly too big, but her belt helped to solve that problem. Over her left shoulder, the remains of her breakfast sat on the mahogany table. She’d been sure to eat light, some fruit and a roll, because she didn’t wish to see it again in altered form.

She smiled at her reflection, ignoring the wrinkles in her brow, and slid her feet into her boots. “This will do,” she murmured, then walked out of the room.

After some trial-and-error (and a few questions to startled servants), the queen found her way to the field where a dozen or so newly-promoted pages practiced before a red-faced weapons master. When she approached, the burly man glared at her. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came to see how his Majesty trains his troops, and perhaps try a few sparring matches myself.”

The master scowled at her. “Cyan doesn’t like it when women fight. Calls it ‘unnatural.’”

“With all due respect, sir, I doubt he would say that. He traveled with women during the war, and fought along side them with respect for their abilities.”

The scowl deepened. “Women have no place on the battlefield.”

“And these beardless boys have more right to train for death?” The queen gestured at the stumbling squires.

Those nearest to the pair had stopped sparring and were watching the exchange intently. “You ought to leave. You’re distracting them from their work. Go back to the court, lady, and for the Power’s sake, change into some decent clothing.”

Terra swallowed her wrath, thanking Edgar again for all of the training she’d endured to learn how to behave with the often snobby court ladies in Figaro. She considered apologizing for interrupting the training session, but the idea rankled. Celes’ words from a few days before rose in her mind. _She’s right. It’s silly for me to stop training. Who knows when I’ll need to stand beside my friends and fight again?_ Terra put on her most regal smile and said, “I ask for one match, please. Then you may return to training your recruits in peace.”

All of the squires were watching them now, and the weapons master knew it. Terra also noted that the boys were young enough not to make the distinction between backing down with honor and being afraid to fight a girl. From the sour look on the man’s face, it seemed he knew it, as well. “Fine,” he spat. “Give this lady a sword.” A boy stepped forward and offered his blade to the queen; she took it and hefted it, feeling the weight of the well-balanced steel.

She had no time to utter a “Thank you,” however. The weapons master rushed her, and she barely managed to bring up her blade in time to block his attack. The impact reverberated up her arm, and she gritted her teeth, wishing she’d spent more time keeping in shape instead of lounging, bored, in the castle.

Her opponent wasted no time. His attacks flew at her, light glinting off their interlocked swords at one moment, then flashing the length of his sword as he drove in for another. The queen’s clumsy parries and dodges grew smoother as her old training came back to her. The students had formed a semi-circle around them, but stood stone-silent. _I doubt they’ve ever seen anyone with the nerve to attack their master before_ , she thought, but she forced her focus back on the battle as she blocked an overhead swing that, were the blades edged, would have had enough force to cleave her from skull to halfway down her abdomen. With the dull blades they were using, it probably would have knocked her unconscious.

“Stop defending and attack me, girl!” the weapons master grunted. “Or can’t you keep up?”

Seeing that smirk, Terra let her body take over. Years of training she’d thought forgotten flooded back into her, and she launched into swift attack that nipped at the gaps in his padded armor. A flick of her wrist, and his blade flew through the air and landed in the dirt several feet away. The weapons master looked down at the welt on his wrist, then back up at the queen. “I-I’m sorry…what…?”

A saucy remark leapt to Terra’s tongue, then died as she saw something glitter behind the man. A strange white face smiled at her, but before she could really focus on it, someone touched her arm. She looked down at the sweaty face of one grimy squire.

“That was amazing, my Lady!” he said. “Where’d you learn that?”

Other voices rose in unison, making the same comments, asking the same question. Finally, another voice rose above them, only slightly deeper than the rest. “I saw her last night dining with Slone! She’s the Queen of Figaro!”

The other boys seemed taken aback. “You’re a _queen_?” one squeaked. “And they taught you _that_?”

Terra smiled, embarrassed. “I am, yes, but before then, I was a warrior fighting with Cyan—with his Majesty.”

A dozen or so sets of eyes stared at her in disbelief. Finally, one of the boys asked meekly, “Your Highness…could you teach us how to do that?”

She laughed and settled in for a long morning.

 

——

 

The queen plopped down in a chair before the fireplace, a cup of tea warm in her hands. Her muscles ached, even more so than they had earlier that morning. Two days of training with fourteen-year-old boys had shown her just how little exercise she’d gotten in the past ten years or so. She still couldn’t get the mystified look of the weapons master out of her head, though, his stuttering as he tried to figure out what he was doing. Why a woman stood before him armed, while his sword lay in the dust at his feet. And the statue…

Someone knocked lightly on the door, and she looked over at it. “Come in,” she said. “Oh, good evening, Locke.” She put her cup on the table in front of her and stood.

The man smiled. “Don’t gotta stand for me, Terra. You’re the queen here.”

She scowled. “Don’t start that. I’ve already had problems trying to get Setzer to stop.”

Locke laughed, and she motioned for him to sit. “Thanks,” he said.

“Would you like some tea? There ought to be enough left in the pot for another cup.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” His fingers drummed the wooden arm of his chair.

“How’s Celes?”

“Fine. In the bath, and I wanted t’talk t’ya anyway.”

“What’s wrong?” The queen sipped her tea.

“Nothin’, just wanted t’talk.” Her friend grinned. “Saw ya out there with the boys today. Made me think of Celes, the way she’s always trainin’ at home. Says she figures she never knows when she’ll need t’fight, so she might as well practice as much as she can.” He winked. “I don’t think you’ve practiced in years, though.”

The queen laughed softly. “No, not really. I decided it might be a good idea to start again, though. If anything they’ve kept me busy the past few days.”

“Yeah.” They were silent for a few minutes, then Locke said, “What happened in Jidoor?”

“What do you mean?” The queen put on her best royal mask.

“I know ya told us that ya saw the director guy, but Celes seems a bit…jumpier since ya two saw him. I was wonderin’ if anythin’ happened that I oughtta know about.”

“Um…”

“If ya don’t wanna talk about it, I guess that’s okay. I just wanna make sure my wife’s safe, y’know? And I know one of her knives was missin’, too. I know she didn’t just forget it; y’know how she is—all that army trainin’ made her one of the most organized people on the planet. Almost crazy, the way she puts everythin’ away all the time. Great for business, though. Always know where everythin’ is.” The man shook his head. “But, Terra, what happened back there?”

Terra smiled. “It was nothing. We just met some creep, but we took care of it. She scared him off. We know how to take care of ourselves.

“Yeah, I know. I just worry sometimes. I don’t wanna lose her or Dirk.”

“I know. Have a little more faith in her, that’s all.” The queen smiled.

Locke smiled in return, then stood. “Yeah. Ya look beat, Terra. I think I’ll let ya go t’bed. I gotta get up early tomorrow and see if I can get another dagger from the armory. If I can’t always fight along side her, I can at least know she’s well-armed.”

“Right.” The queen stood, too, and gave her old friend a quick hug. “Good night, Locke.”

“Night, Terra. See ya tomorrow.”

“Bye.” When the door shut, she shook her head. “I hope Celes forgives me for what little I said. But he had it practically figured out, anyway.” She took off her robe and hung it on a hook, then climbed into bed. Despite her aching muscles, she was asleep practically before her head hit the pillow.

 

——

 

Terra’s eyes flew open to a sky scarred with dust. Clouds scudded across the blood red heavens, and twisted trees bore few leaves, despite the heat. Torn fragments of wood and charred bits of well-made furniture lay strewn about the loose dirt, the spaces between them a path along which children and teenagers walked. A few of the children scrambled over debris, thinking it a grand game; others dug through the ruins of their homes, searching for memories. One child cried by a collapsed wall, tugging at a gray hand thrust between the stones.

Without realizing she’d moved, she found herself kneeling at the side of the sobbing child, drawing him to her. She murmured soft words of comfort into his ear, stroked his back. “Mama,” he whimpered. “Mama, Mama…”

She wiped the tears from his dirty face and smiled kindly at him. “Don’t worry, little one,” she said. “I’ll be your Mama now, so stop crying. I won’t leave.”

“You won’t leave, Mama?” Terra blinked as she looked into the face of her son, who was hugging her tightly.

“Dylan?” she asked. She looked around the town, at the broken buildings and wreckage, at the strangely colored sky. “What are you doing here?”

“Mama, you won’t leave, right? Don’t leave me while I’m sick, Mama,” Dylan said. She realized he was shivering, his eyes bright with fever.

“Mommy, come watch me!” cried another voice, a girl’s. She turned her head and saw her daughter balancing on the top of a pile of rubble. Rocks and bits of wood slid dangerously under her feet.

“Marissa! Come down before you hurt yourself!” Terra cried. She stood to run, but Dylan wouldn’t let go.

“Mommy, see what I can do!” her daughter shouted, then started jumping up and down, waving her arms.

“Mama, I want to get well so I can play with Marissa. Make me well again, Mama!” Racking coughs shook her son’s body.

Then the earth was shaking, knocking down the remains of the houses. Children scattered, screaming as a huge green beast thundered towards the town, steam pouring from his nostrils. Terra’s heart stopped, recognizing the demon in seconds. “Phunbaba!”

Phunbaba stood in center of the wreckage, laughing in a sound that combined breaking earth with dying birds. Terra longed to clamp her hands over her ears, but her sick son clung to her, crying with fright.  
“But…but I killed you!” she cried, trying to stand.

“You can’t destroy me, puny girl-human. You can’t destroy a demon.” The beast’s beady eyes scanned the ruins of the town, then landed on Marissa. The girl stood, frozen with fright, on top of her mountain.

“Marissa!” Terra screamed. “Get away from there! Marissa!” The queen struggled to stand, but Dylan seemed to weigh more than his bony, ill frame would suggest. He grabbed at her arms and clothes, begging her not to leave him.

Phunbaba reached for Marissa, and Terra reached deep inside herself, searching for that kernel of her soul that was her father’s legacy so she could transform into her Esper form and protect her children. Fear choked her when she realized it was gone.

“Puny girl-human,” the beast rumbled. “Fighting me is useless. Magic is gone, and demons remain. You are powerless to stop me. You can’t stop me even as I strike those you love most.” He plucked Marissa from the rubble and held her by the head in his massive fingers. “You can’t stop me as your son dies…”

“Marissa!” Terra shrieked, and looked down in her arms to see her daughter lying there, eyes feverish and body shaking with chills and terror. “But…” the queen said. “Dylan was just…”

“Don’t…don’t leave me…Mommy…” her daughter rasped.

Terra heard a horrible _crunch_ that cracked like a whip through the stagnant, humid air. The copper scent of blood rose in her nostrils and stung her eyes; through tears she watched as the demon Phunbaba tossed the broken body of her son aside. She sat, frozen, as the demon laughed and picked up two more children at from the terrified groups at his feet. Blinking, she realized the “children” were Cyan and Strago; laughing, the demon swallowed them whole.

She watched as her friends were killed or eaten, the sick popping sounds drowning out her own screams and pleas for mercy for those she loved. She sat as if rooted to the dusty street, only her mind racing with her heart.

Finally, the demon turned to her, having feasted on those she loved. “Now for you, ‘Mama Terra.’ How does it feel to know you couldn’t save anyone? How does it feel to know you’re weak and foolish and that everything you do just delays the inevitable? How does it feel to know you were defeated by a demon?”

His hand reached for her, and she watched it move closer and closer and she screamed and screamed as his wide palm blotted out the sun…

 

——

 

“Terra! Terra, wake up! Wake up!”

The queen shot up in bed, sucking in breath. The room swirled around her, and the echoes of shrieking and snapping bones made the nausea churning in her stomach worse. She shivered as cold sweat embraced her.

“Terra, are you all right?”

Weakly, she looked to her right. Her eyes focused on Celes. “Wha…?” She couldn’t recognize her own voice as it left her throat.

“You were screaming, and I had a horrible time waking you up. Are you all right?”

She drew her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on them. She took several deep breaths, and a gentle hand rubbed her back. After several moments, her head cleared and she looked up. “I think I’m okay. I just had a nightmare.”

Celes smiled, but concern remained in her eyes. “You’re sure? You were loud enough to wake the dead. I could hear you down the hall.”

“I’m sorry I woke you. I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t worry. I was awake anyway.”

The queen furrowed her brow. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight. I was already on my way down here because I found out the doctor is back. He’s awake right now, and I’m pretty sure he’d talk to us if we went down now. I thought I’d come get you so we could go down together.”

“All right. Let me get dressed.” Terra forced her stomach down as she stood. Gritting her teeth against it’s complaints, she pulled on the less-formal dress she’d found in the closet upon arriving. She slid her feet into a pair of light slippers and quickly braided her hair. She checked her reflection in the bronze mirror and smiled ruefully at her baggy, bloodshot eyes and pale cheeks. “I look awful.”

“Yeah, you do, but I imagine Dr. St. John will, too,” Celes grinned. “Let’s go before he decides to take a nap.”

Together the women walked down the hallway. Terra felt the blood returning to her face, and her stomach stopped its roiling as she moved. Even her bruises seemed to hurt less.

She was musing about how much better she felt when a man in a long white coat rushed past them. As the queen watched him, she heard shouts from the room down the hall. She glanced at Celes and the woman nodded. “Let’s hurry.”

The shouts grew louder as they ran up, and they peered in. A number of white-coated men stood around a bed, and between shoulders and arms Terra saw a half-naked man shuddering and crying out on the bed. One of the white coats was trying to pin the wailing man to the bed while another readied a bottle of some acrid green liquid. Before their eyes, the flailing man gave one last cry, like moving earth and tearing steel, then fell back on the bed, still. Shivers raced up Terra’s arms. Faintly, she thought she heard the sound of laughter.

A dark-haired man with an authoritative gait approached the bed. He touched the man’s neck, then wrist. “None,” he said gruffly. He straightened the corpse’s arms and pulled the rumpled sheet over the silently screaming face. Only then did he notice the two women standing in the doorway. “Yes?” he asked.

Celes stepped forward. “I am Celes Cole, and this is her Highness Terra of Figaro. We had come to ask Dr. St. John some questions, but that is impossible now.”

The other man nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

They stood there, awkwardly, and the man took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. My name is Jeremiah Stone. I am the chief physician in Dr. St. John’s absence, though it appears likely that I will be appointed his title. To be given it in this way…it’s not the way I would have liked it. He deserved a better death than this.”

“What happened?” Celes asked.

“We are not quite sure. One moment, he was sitting up and chatting, seeming quite well. I left the room for a moment, and when I returned, he was thrashing about wildly. I don’t understand it. There will be an inquiry, I’m sure.” The man smiled ruefully. “I have a long day ahead of me.”

“I see.” An edge crept into her voice.

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can help you with? The Chancellor told me you needed to speak with Dr. St. John, but perhaps I can help instead.”

“We have a few friends who are ill, and we heard from Dr. Georg Varr that he might have answers. We need to learn more about comas,” Celes replied cautiously after she saw Terra wouldn’t answer.

The doctor nodded. “That makes sense. I never quite understood Dr. St. John’s fascination with them, but if there are others who did work in that field, then Dr. St. John was most certainly the expert.” He looked for a moment at the sheet-covered corpse, then back at the women. “I have access to the doctor’s files, and when I find the time, I will go through his notes and see if there’s anything of use. I doubt I will have much time over the next few days, but I promise to do my best.”

“Thank you,” Celes said. Terra echoed her, and the former general led the queen from the room.

They were almost back to the guest wing when Terra managed to stop shaking. “What’s wrong?” Celes asked softly.

Terra leaned against the wall. “It’s…it’s like a bad dream. Except it’s real.”

She saw in her friend’s eyes words of admonition, the unspoken thought, _But you’ve seen men die before_ , but Celes chose to hug her instead. “This is just a minor setback, don’t worry.”

“I hope so…”

Her friend smiled and squeezed her tightly. “Let’s go get some breakfast. We need to tell the others what happened.”

 

——

 

The next three days passed slowly indeed. Terra did her best to occupy her time with training. Chancellor Hayden approached her on the second day with a sheaf of papers, asking for her help sorting them. “Since you are here, even in an unofficial capacity, perhaps we can discuss some future trade agreements. As you may know, Doma has recently begun exploring possibilities in the way of exportable goods, and we’d like to know if we would have a market with other kingdoms…”

It was dinnertime by the time she managed to escape.

On the third day, she passed Setzer in the hallway. “Where have you been?” she asked.

“With the _Falcon_.”

She wrinkled her nose at the curt reply. “Is it broken?”

“No. She longs to see the sky, and I want to go with her. If I knew when we were going to hear something from that damn Stone, I’d know when I needed to be back to get you guys.”

“I’m sorry, Setzer,” Terra replied. She watched him walk off and shook her head.

That evening, Terra was sitting before the fire with a book she’d borrowed from the Doma library, a windy epic with droopy ladies in constant need of rescuing from overly-gallant knights. She closed it and looked at the door. “Yes?”

A messenger popped his head in, then opened the door completely. After a deep bow, he said, “Dr. Stone has requested your presence, your Highness. Please follow me.”

The queen looked at the nightgown she wore and touched the thin waves of her hair, then sighed. “Is it urgent?”

“The doctor sounded so.”

She sighed again. “Let me get my robe, then.”

A few minutes later she joined her friends in an office that rivaled Terra’s bedchamber for posh. Dr. Stone stood behind a large desk, but when she entered, he smiled wearily and gestured for them to sit. “I am sorry to disturb you so late,” he said, “but I’m afraid that tomorrow will be busy as well, and I know you are anxious to leave.”

To his credit, Setzer said nothing, but Terra smiled and sat. “Thank you.”

“What did you find?” a sleep-eyed Locke asked. His tousled blonde hair stuck out strangely where his bandana would have held it.

“Nothing much, I’m afraid. For all he knew, Dr. St. John must have kept much of it locked in his head. I searched all of his papers and journals, but found little.” He picked up a few sheets of notes and looked at them. “According to the doctor, comas occur under several circumstances and are prolonged periods of unconsciousness.” He looked up. “So if you faint and wake up a few minutes later or with the use of smelling salts, that wasn’t a coma.”

“Yes,” Celes said.

“He doesn’t mention much in the way of causes, as he never observed patients when they fell into a coma. However, he thinks they could be caused by abnormal strain on the body or poor health. Most of the people he observed had fallen into comas for that second reason.”

“Does he talk about cures?” Terra asked.

“No, I’m afraid not. It seems like most of what he did was observe and wait.”

“Oh.” All the diplomatic training in the world could not have kept the disappointment from the queen’s voice.

“He did propose some interesting theories, though. Most of them were formless and difficult to understand, but one grabbed my attention. He discussed the possibility that, when a person falls into a coma, they slowly begin to lose their memory.”

Setzer cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“He noticed that the people he observed had many things in common, particularly a faint pulse and a death-like state. They gave no sign of movement. He proposed that, because the bodily functions were shut down to such an extent, the processes of the brain would also be shut down. Slowly, because they aren’t being used, the brain cells would start to die. Many of these would be the cells where that people simply don’t use, but the cells that contain memories would also die. Skills, events, even knowledge of friends and family would be lost.” The queen’s heart sank to her stomach, and the doctor smiled kindly. “This is only over time, of course. A day or a week, doubtless even a few weeks, would make little difference. But months, years…the potential for lost knowledge increases with passing time.” The doctor took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “He couldn’t back any of these theories up, which is why I doubt them, but…”

“But we should hurry just in case,” Celes finished softly.

“I think so,” Dr. Stone said.

“Thank you for your help, doctor,” Terra said, standing. “Please forgive us for asking for your help when you are so busy with everything else.”

“I’m just sorry that I can’t do more. Please, don’t let these theories disturb you. I wish you all the best of luck in helping your friends. If there’s anything more I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

The group said their good nights and were silent until they reached Terra’s room. She let her friends in, and they sank into chairs near the roaring fireplace.

Celes spoke first. “Do you think he did it?”

Setzer glanced at her. “Killed the other doctor, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“No. Why would he? Okay, ambition, maybe. But, even if he did, he wouldn’t give us false information. There’d be no point. I doubt he has any connection to what’s going on with our friends, if that’s what you mean.”

Celes didn’t look convinced, but Terra stepped in before her friend could argue. “What do we do now, though? We don’t know much more than before we came here. We don’t know why this is happening to everyone.”

“We know we have a time limit,” Setzer pointed out.

“We just know that we can’t spend forever waiting for more clues,” replied Celes tartly. “That doesn’t really tell us anything. I doubt anyone was planning on taking more time than necessary to figure this out, anyway. I know I wasn’t.”

“So, where do we go next?” Setzer asked. “I’m just the pilot. You tell me where, and I’ll get you there as fast as possible.”

“Hmm…”

All eyes turned towards Locke, who’d remained silent throughout the conversation. From the way his head had been bent, Terra had simply assumed he’d fallen asleep, but his eyes were as quick as ever when he looked up. “Setzer, how about Kohlingen?”

“Kohlingen?”

“Yeah.” Locke’s eyes twinkled. “I think I might know someone who can help.”


	7. The Madman

Weeds surrounded the run-down shack on the edge of Kohlingen, knee-high and dying in the late summer sun. Paint peeled from the clapboard siding, and the grayish-green of rot showed through a number of the holes. The gutter clinging to the edge of the roof was more rust than iron. A battered door hung in its frame as if from sheer will.

Terra glanced at Locke. “This is the place?”

“Yeah.” The man walked up and knocked. Insects scattered from holes in the wood. No one answered, so he pushed open the door. “Hello the house!” he cried above creaking hinges.

“Dat ya, Locke? I’m in da basement,” a voice called back.

Locke turned and grinned at her. “Let’s go.”

The room into which they walked was dark and layered in dust. Broken furniture had been pushed into corners under grime-caked windows. Glancing around, Terra self-consciously wrapped her arms around her torso, trying to pull herself in as much as possible away from the filth.

The ancient stairs groaned under their weight, and the queen pictured herself plunging to her doom—or, worse, a giant rat’s nest. There was no railing, but hooks remained where a railing would have been. A strange smell lingered in the air, growing stronger as they descended.

Locke opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, then wiped his feet and walked in. Terra was surprised to see a tidy workshop, well-lit and lined with cabinets. Pots of flowers Terra had never seen before stood in neat rows, and equipment was organized on several tables.

“Ya seem good as ever, Locke,” a man said. “But it don’t seem dat dis’s ya wife, if I remember right.”

“No, this is Terra. She’s a friend from Figaro.”

“Nice t’meet ya,” the man said. He turned to one of the vials and poured a few drops from it into another one.

“Terra, this’s Tom Rees. He’s an old friend of mine. Helped me out lots when I was a kid.”

Tom _harrumphed_. “Shoulda seen ‘im. An imp. ‘E ‘n that girl, wazzername. Rachel.”

Locke was silent for a moment, and Terra said, “Tom, may I ask you some questions, if that’s all right?”

“Whaddaya need, kid?”

Quickly, the queen explained the situation, including the disturbing information they’d received from Dr. St. John’s notes. “We’re worried about our friends, and Locke thought you might know how to help.”

The man grunted. “Dunno whatcha want me t’do. I ain’t got nothin’ t’cure people. I ain’t a doctor. Dat Gau kid’d be better ‘n me.”

Terra glanced at Locke, and he nodded. “Tom, what about that stuff ya used on Rach?”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Remember how ya made it so she’d stay the same when she died? Can’t ya use that?”

“Don’t got it no more.”

“What happened t’it?”

The man was silent for several minutes. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “I don’t do people no more. Too dangerous. Ain’t no sense. All gotta die someday, somehow. Don’t make no difference riskin’ myself t’make people live. I work with plants. Dey ain’t gonna make a big fuss when deir seeds die.”

“But ya worked with Rach—”

“Girl was dead, Locke. I could make ‘er pretty as one o’ my flowers, da kinds I sell t’rich folks in Jidoor. Da real ones dat’re dead but don’t fade. Don’t make no difference t’dem.”

“Please, Mr. Rees,” Terra said softly. “If you can help us at all, please tell us how. Your flowers seem precious to you…these people are precious to us. We don’t want to lose them.”

The man sighed and turned around slowly. “Ain’t nothin’ I can do for ya. I ain’t no doctor. I ain’t got no cures.” Terra nodded and started to speak, but Tom held up one finger. “I got dis stuff, call it ‘Dreams’ ‘cuz da person looks like ‘e’s sleepin’. Puts a body int’ suspended animation. Means it don’t rot, looks fresh as da second after ‘e dies. It’s what I used for Rachel.”

“Would ya use it for our friends?” Locke asked.

Relief swept over Terra. “Yes, could you? It’d mean we could take as long as we needed to find a cure—”

“No it don’t,” Tom said, cutting Terra off. “Don’t mean nothin’ like dat. See, I use it on dead stuff t’ make it look pretty. Ain’t never tried it on livin’ bodies. Don’t wanna, neither, but it don’t seem like ya gonna take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“What’s the problem?” the treasure hunter asked cautiously.

“Da stuff stops all da cells in da body from breakin’ down. It’d work for ya friends if it don’t kill ‘em. Dunno if dey’d start breathin’ again when it wore off. Da other problem is, I ain’t gonna be able t’ use as much as when I do it for da dead ‘cuz I don’t wanna kill ‘em. Most I’d do is a month’s worth. Ain’t much, but it’d prob’ly kill ‘em t’ use more.”

“But you’d do this for us?” asked Terra.

“Bring ‘em t’me ‘n I’ll try it. Ain’t gonna guarantee nothin’, but I’m gonna try.”

            Locke and Terra both broke into grins, and the treasure hunter clapped Tom on the back. “Thanks, Tom.”

“Yeah. Just bring ‘em. Don’t come back ‘til ya got ‘em. Make it quick, too.” The man turned back to his vials and droppers.

“Thank you,” Terra said, and she followed Locke up the rickety stairs and out of the house. The sunshine burned her eyes, and once she’d blinked away tears, she turned to her friend. “Do you really think he’ll be able to help?”

“Ya heard the man. He’s gonna try, which is more than I thought we’d get. I won’t lie, I’ve always had a hard time convincin’ him of anythin’.” He winked.

“I’m glad we were able to today.” Terra cocked her head. “Do you want to visit Dirk while we’re here?”

“Nah.” The man looked up at the sky, and sunshine reflected off the gold in his hair. “Celes ‘n I talked last night ‘n we decided she’d stay back t’talk t’Setzer while I went with ya t’meet Tom. It’d be tough on Dirk if we saw him for twenty minutes ‘n had t’leave again. It’s easier this way.” He stopped Terra before she could protest. “If he doesn’t understand that now, he will when he’s older.”

Terra was silent as they walked back to the airship, wondering if she’d forgo seeing her own children if she had the chance to be with them. For some reason she felt suddenly cold, and she hugged herself until she stopped shivering.

 

——

 

Setzer stood on the deck of the _Falcon_ , steering the ship towards the bottom-most layer of clouds. He’d not yet put his gloves back on; after too many days away from his wings, the smooth spindles of the wheel were a comfort to his hands. He steered her gently, caressing her into a turn, bringing her up by easing her tiller back into his chest. Clouds tickled his cheeks, and he laughed. He eased her around a flock of geese moving south for the winter; the pilot fancied they were jealous of the speed and majesty of his _Falcon_.

The sun was behind him, warm on his back and hair as it rose, and the wind as it passed enveloped him, trying to move past his long leather coat like an over-zealous woman. He pictured the dawn in his mind as a petite blonde with bouncing curls and grinned. He pulled a lever and the _Falcon_ soared.

As if cued, he spotted a small white bird on the horizon flying towards his ship. Setzer dragged his mind back from the clouds and focused on the creature, slowing. It landed on the polished rail of the bow, cooing. A lopsided grin plastered itself on the pilot’s face as he put the ship into autopilot and walked over to the messenger bird.

From the little oiled leather case on the bird’s leg he pulled a small roll of paper. His grin grew when he saw the handwriting. He carefully took the bird and the note down below.

The others looked up at him when he appeared. “What’s going on?” Celes asked. “I didn’t think we could get you away from the controls if we used a prybar.”

Setzer’s grin reflected the warm tingles in his chest, and he offered the slip of paper to her. “I just got this from the bird.”

“‘I couldn’t find anything, and I’m worried about Grandpa. Come get me? Relm.’” Celes looked up. “We’re on our way to Mobliz, though, to pick up Strago and the others.”

The pilot shrugged. “It’s quicker to go from Kohlingen to Thamasa then to Mobliz.”

“Really?” Locke said, one eyebrow raised.

“Sure. Besides, she could help us move people. If she’s got nothing to help us with, anyway, we might as well go get her and bring her with us.”

“We’ll get there late, though. It’s an extra day’s trip,” the queen said. “I’d rather we get her after we’ve made sure we have everyone else take care of. Remember what Dr. Stone told us? It’s dangerous to leave them alone so long.”

“They’ll be okay. It’s only after several months, isn’t it?”

“But the notes weren’t sure,” Terra said stubbornly.

Setzer felt a scowl coming on, but Celes stopped it. “Why don’t we just get her? It’s not that much extra, just one day. We might as well. Maybe we can take her to Jidoor or somewhere with a good library so she can try researching there.”

Terra seemed unconvinced as her brow furrowed, but she finally sighed and nodded. “I guess a little longer won’t matter.”

“And we just started out from Kohlingen, so we aren’t even that far away if I just turn around now,” Setzer said.  
“Fine. Go back and fly.”

Heart light, Setzer practically skipped over to the cages where he kept his birds. As he climbed back onto the top deck, he laughed aloud, his mind tripping over images of a pretty artist and the softness of her lips on his.

 

——

 

Terra stepped into Mobliz three days later, followed by Locke, Celes, Relm, and Setzer. After they picked up the artist, they’d looked at a map and seen that it would be a quick stop in Doma to get Cyan. “I don’t know if he has the same thing,” Setzer had explained, “but I think it makes sense to take him, too. Gau could take a look at him, since that Stone guy was stumped.”

Relm had seemed a bit irked that she wouldn’t get to see her grandfather immediately, but she had looked after Cyan once they retrieved him. The queen had looked in Cyan’s cabin and watched her caring for the knight. Terra had smiled.

Now, though, Relm hopped from one foot to the other. “What’s the plan?”

“Locke and I are going to get rooms for tonight in the inn, if you want to go to see Strago,” Celes replied.

“I’m going, too, so I can explain our plans to Gau,” Terra said.

“I can go, too, if you want me to,” Setzer said.

Terra shook her head before Relm could respond. “No, I think you need to get more groceries. The stores are running low again.”

Setzer rolled his eyes, but said instead, “See you guys later, then,” he said, then walked off.

The queen and the artist hurried to Gau’s office. Relm’s eyes were saucers as she stared at the market, the square, and all the construction that had taken place since her last visit. “It’s a good thing I didn’t try to paint this before. If you’d told me that this run-down place would turn into a real town, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“That’s what happens when there’s peace. Things can grow,” Terra replied diplomatically. “I think Mobliz has grown the most of any place since the end of the war, given its starting point.”

“I can believe it,” Relm replied, nodding appreciatively.

They crossed the bridge spanning the river to the oldest part of the peninsula, then entered the medical building. Nancy the nurse greeted them enthusiastically, then led them to the basement. “He’s in there, of course. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. I hope you have good news for him.”

“Perhaps not the best, but we do have news,” Terra said.

Nancy grinned. “It’s something, at least. I think he’s getting frustrated, and when he gets frustrated, my job becomes a lot harder.”

Gau was bent over Katarin’s bed when the two women walked in, and he straightened, smiling. “Good day, Terra. I am glad you are here.”

“We’re glad to be here, too,” she replied.

“We?” Gau asked. His eyes moved past Terra’s shoulder, and, to the queen’s surprise, his face reddened in the lamplight. Behind her, she heard Relm take a deep breath.

A moment of awkward silence passed in the room, but Relm recovered first. “Hi!” she said. “Remember me, Gau?”

The doctor swallowed hard, then said, “Y-yes. Good day to you, Relm. You have grown since we last met.”

The artist laughed. “And you learned how to talk.” Gau blushed again, but Relm cocked her head and said, “Where’s Grandpa? Is he all right?”

“He is the same. I apologize at my inability to cure him.” The doctor led her to the bed where Strago lay, withered and pale. “I have managed to help his breathing problems, but he has not woken since he was brought to me.”

Relm nodded, and knelt by the bed. She took one liver-spotted hand in her own and pressed it to her cheek. “He’s so cold…” she said softly.

“I fear it is the same with the others. No matter how many blankets I use, they never seem to warm. I worry that they will freeze.” He turned towards Terra. “Please tell me you have good news about a possible cure, or even something that can give me hope for their safety.”

The queen nodded. “It isn’t much, but there’s a man in Kohlingen who can put them in suspended animation for a month while we search. According to a doctor in Doma, the longer they remain unresponsive like this, the more likely it will be that their brains will start dying.” She looked over at Relm, who stared at her, wide-eyed. “If we put them into suspended animation, we’ll hopefully have enough time to find a cure, or at least some more clues.”

Gau nodded thoughtfully. “How may I help?”

“We need you to help carry everyone to the airship in the morning. We’re going to get Edgar, too, and take them to Kohlingen. Cyan is already on the _Falcon_.”

“Cyan?”

“He collapsed several weeks ago, before we arrived. Doma’s doctor didn’t get a chance to see him before he, the doctor, died. The new court physician couldn’t make a diagnosis.”

“I see. I would like to know more, but later. I must make preparations.”

“Like the medicines we’ll need to give them until we get to Kohlingen?”

The doctor shook his head. “I shall join you. I, too, would like to know why my patients remain ill, and perhaps I can be of assistance to this man in Kohlingen.”

“All right.” Terra smiled tiredly. “I think I’m going to take a nap before dinner. It’s been a long few weeks, and it’s catching up to me.” She looked back and forth between the doctor and artist. “If you need anything, let me know.”

“I will. Please take care of your health, Terra. I would not like for you to become one of my patients, as well.”

“Thank you,” she said. With a final glance at the two young people, she left the room, keeping a secret, wistful smile to herself.

 

——

 

Sleep didn’t come easily to Relm that night. She tossed and turned in the room she shared with Terra in the inn until the covers were knotted about her body. Finally, she glanced over at the steadily-breathing form of the queen and sighed. Standing, she slid her feet into a pair of slippers and drew her robe over her body. It hung more loosely than usual; in the weeks since her grandfather had fallen ill, she’d had little appetite. Celes had commented on it earlier, while they ate dinner, and the artist had force-fed herself until she felt ill. Half of her plate had still been full when the server had taken it away.

Relm crept out the door of the inn, then walked through the square. The moon shone down on the statue in the center, and while she wasn’t as good a sculptor as a painter, she recognized the clumsiness of the piece. _Cute, though_ , she thought. _Like how a child’s finger paintings are cute._

The torches outside the buildings stretched her shadow as she walked through the town, exploring the streets. She’d often walked alone at night when she was younger, even before the war. Thamasa was a safe town, and she’d never had to fear wild beasts. It had been a long time, though, since her last midnight walk; with her grandfather as ill as he was, she didn’t dare leave. Another thing she had to give up. She added it to her mental tally, then swallowed her guilt.

One path led down a shallow grade between two moderately high cliffs. She followed it, even as the cobbles of the street gave way to dirt, then loose gravel. They pricked her feet through the thin leather soles of her slippers, but she didn’t mind. The sight before her made her forget her worry and pain.

The sea sparkled until it met the night horizon, reflecting the moon and stars in an infinite number, making the world seem even brighter. It splashed on the stones of the beach, pulled back, then splashed again in a soothing rhythm. She squatted at the edge and picked up some rocks. She tossed them out into the water, one for every wish.

One felt soft in her hand, and she looked down at a large, mossy stone the size of her palm. Even the moonlight couldn’t hide the brilliant green of the moss clinging to it, and the color reminded her of Gau’s hair. She giggled at the thought, then sighed. He’d been perfectly charming at dinner, a real gentleman who’d chatted confidently, if formally, with them. He’d wanted to know all about what had happened in Thamasa, and she had found herself giving more details than she would normally. And him—a doctor! She never expected him to make _anything_ of himself, but he’d done more than she had in the same amount of time. Less time, even, if she considered that he’d been seventeen when he’d started learning. She sighed and stared at the rock in her hand. “People change too fast.”

“Not always,” a familiar voice said behind her.

Relm glanced at her shoulder, then back at the rock. “Hi, Setzer.”

“‘Hi, Setzer’? Is that all I get now, after risking my neck out here?”

“I’m sorry.” She stood, knees cracking, and pitched her rock into the sea. It gobbled it greedily, then came back for more.

“What are you doing out here so late? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to walk out alone at night?” The pilot stepped up beside her.

Normally, she would’ve made a snappy comment, but it wasn’t in her tonight. “I couldn’t sleep,” was all she said.

“You’ll get a cold dressed like that. Just a nightgown under that robe.” He started shrugging off his jacket.

“Don’t worry about me,” she replied. “I’m fine. It feels nice out here tonight. Much warmer than Thamasa, anyway.” She looked over at him, and found his eyes in the moonlight. “What about you, then?”

His teeth flashed, white like his eyes in the darkness of his face. “Couldn’t sleep, either. I saw you walking down here, so I thought I’d follow.”

“Oh.”

They stared at the sea for a long time, until Relm felt his eyes on her again. “Yes?” she asked without looking at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he replied.

Relm chuckled. “Thanks,” she said.

“I’ve wanted to tell you that for a long time, Relm. How beautiful you are.”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, a wry smile on her face. “Why’d you wait ‘til now?”

“I…” he was silent, and she laughed. “Hey, it’s not easy to say,” he complained.

“It is?” An image of the fall of green hair over tanned skin popped to her mind unbidden, and her smile disappeared. She nodded solemnly. “I guess it would be.” She looked out at the sea again.

Several more minutes passed in silence before Setzer spoke again. “There’s something else I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time.”

“Oh?”

She felt a weather-scarred hand touch hers, and she turned towards the pilot. He took her other hand, clasping them gently. His eyes found hers. “Yes.”

Another smile rose to her face. “Well? What is it?”

“Relm…for a long time I’ve…” He paused so long that she almost told him to just spit it out; the only thing that saved her was that he spoke the moment the words rose to her mind. “I’ve been in love with you.”

The artist bit her lip, but the laugh that tumbled from her was no more stoppable than the waves stumbling on the rocks around them. She let go of his hands to clutch her stomach as she doubled over. Her laughter echoed on the cliff sides.

“Hey!” the pilot said.

“I…I’m sorry…” she managed between laughs. “Can’t…breathe…” She looked up and saw the hurt on his face, and her humor died. “Oh, Setzer…”

He turned and looked at the sea. “I didn’t tell you for a long time, and I don’t know why I’m telling you now, but…I watched you grow up. I watched you turn from a sarcastic kid into an amazing, talented woman. I visited you more often than any of the others, at first because I thought you needed it, just living alone in Thamasa with your grandfather and everyone in town leaving. Once I realized I was, am, in love with you…I came as often as I could. I wanted to do something to show you how much I care.”

She nodded, realizing now why he’d kissed her.

“If I’d known I’d get that reaction, I’d have waited a few more years, I think.” His voice was gruff.

“Setzer…” Relm said softly. “I’m sorry. I really am. Look at me, please.” His eyes met hers once more. “I just wasn’t prepared to hear that. I was expecting you to say you found some cool brushes or picked up some special paint while you were in Jidoor. Not…not that I’m beautiful. And definitely not that you’re in love with me.”

“But I didn’t.”

“No, you didn’t.”

They stared at the ocean side by side for a long time. Relm tried to calm her heart— _Pretty? Me? And he’s in love with me? What happened? Where’s Setzer, and who’s this guy standing here?_ She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Setzer?” she asked softly.

“Yeah?” He turned and looked at her.

She met his eyes and took another breath. “Since I was a kid, you’ve always been a friend to me. I really want to say I love you back, but…I don’t. You’ve always been a friend, and I’m afraid that’s all there is where love would be. Just a lot of gratitude for your friendship.”

“But you kissed me back,” he protested.

“No,” she said, “you kissed me. I was too stunned to kiss back.”

He must have known it; it showed in his eyes.

Relm took another look at the sea, then turned back towards him. “I’m going to go back and sleep now. Good night, Setzer.”

She started walking off, but a hand grabbed her wrist and spun her around. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?” the man asked between clenched teeth.

The artist smiled sadly. With her free hand she reached up and patted Setzer’s weather-beaten cheek. Her fingers traced the winkles at the corners of his eyes, radiating from his nose and mouth. “No,” she said finally. “There’s just not you.”

She met no resistance when she pulled her wrist from his grasp, and she felt his eyes on her as she climbed the path back to town. The waves splashing on the rocks behind her sounded like tears.


	8. The Storm

Dark clouds loomed on the horizon, rolling towards the _Falcon_ , rippling with scarcely contained energy, boiling upward until they filled all of Setzer’s vision. He spat a curse as he watched and tightened his grip on the tiller. “Appropriate,” he muttered. “Sent just for me, eh?”

The storm rumbled its assent, a wave of sound enveloping the ship even from a distance of several miles.

“I’m not turning this time,” he said. “I’m taking you on. I’m taking you by the shoulders and shaking you until you give in and realize that you can’t let go of me.”

Lightning flashed, reflecting the fire in his belly.

“Let’s go.” With a wild whoop, the _Falcon_ dove into the storm.

 

——

 

Terra looked over at Locke and Celes. “Does that sound like thunder to you?”

The woman looked up from her book, something she’d brought from Doma, her face paling slightly. “What do you mean?”

A deafening _crack_ echoed around them, and the floorboards jumped below their feet. Coffee splashed over the edges of their mugs and dribbled on the battered oak table, and Terra hurriedly wiped it up with her napkin. Locke stood and walked over to the porthole in the side of the ship and looked out. Lightning flashed at his face as he turned and looked at them. “It’s definitely a storm. Ya think he couldn’t avoid it?”

“I don’t know,” the queen replied. “Let’s get this cleaned up before it spills all over the place.” She gathered up the mugs and dumped their contents into the sink, rinsed them, and put them in the cupboard, making sure the cabinet locked securely.

Behind her, she heard Locke say, “Don’t worry, babe, I’m sure Setzer knows what he’s doin’.”

 _I hope so, too_ , Terra thought.

 

——

 

Rain slashed at the pilot as he clung to the tiller, icy on his exposed skin. His leather jacket had shed water for the first minute or two, but now it clung to him heavily, soaking up every drop. He shook his head, whipping clumps of hair from his eyes. The dark clouds mirrored the flashes around him, making the rain sparkle.

They illuminated rain as it slammed into him brought to mind a ragged child huddled in an alley, nestled between a crate and a brick wall, garbage slimy beneath his filthy feet. Rain poured from the sky, and to ignore his rumbling stomach, fed only on worry, he watched it hit the gas streetlamps and lanterns hanging before the doors in the old quarter of Albrook. In the distance, he heard screams and clomping boots; another child hadn’t been fast enough, hadn’t hidden well enough. A year of running from Imperial troops had numbed him to the sound, but fear gnawed at him like lice. He knew what the bigger kids said, and heard it from the parents and the dockworkers: all the orphans and homeless were being “recruited” for the army, regardless of age, sex, condition. The first wave had joined willingly, tempted by a warm meal, but then the rumors started: kids were on the front lines, cannon fodder, or worse, guinea pigs for some strange experiments in Vector. The kid sneezed, staring at the light on rain. _Never_ , he thought, _never…_

“Never!” Setzer shouted. “It’s not going to get me! Some woman’s not going to break me!”

A blast of thunder swallowed his words, tearing across his ears like steel in a factory being cut and bent to fit the side of the experimental aircraft he and a roomful of kids were working on. Helping him hold a plate in place over a tangle of wires in one of the engines was a slim girl his age, her brown hair tumbling down her back because no one had given her a string to tie it with. He watched it as it slipped around her narrow shoulders, watched her face as she drove a screw into the plate with a drill. Her tongue, reddish pink, was thrust between her lips at the corner of her mouth.

He let go of the plate and tore at the sleeve of his over-sized work shirt, working to tear a strip from it, the sounds of machinery drowning out her warning shout. Fire split his face as he wrenched backward, dropped to his knees. The plate clattered to the floor in a puddle of scarlet. He reached up and touched his face, then jerked his hand away, crying out in pain. One eye shut, he stared at his fingers, painted with the same brilliant red the steel lay in. He moaned.

A gentle hand touched his wound, brushing it right above and below the fire. “Medic!” she cried. As if from a distance he heard her run off and return an eternity later. Strong hands gripped him and put him on something soft, and through one cracked eye he saw the girl above him. “Idiot, why’d you let go?”

Instead of answering, he raised his hand and offered her the uneven strip of sleeve he’d torn. The red tongue appeared again between shell-pink lips, then blackness.

Lips that tasted of salt, of oil, of fantasy. “Lips I can’t taste again!” Setzer shouted into the storm. “Three pairs you’ve torn from me! What’d I do to deserve that?” He spat again, then licked his own lips. They tasted of ice.

Winds buffeted the _Falcon_ , shaking her like a leaf tumbling in the sky, and he clung to the tiller. “Not going to let you fall again! Not while I still got a chance!”

The thunder cackled like the soldier who kicked the little boy in Albrook in the rain.

 

——

 

Terra turned from the window over at Locke and Celes, whose white face was buried in his shoulder. “I think it’s getting worse. What should we do?”

Locke looked over at his wife, feeling her shake against him. He’d known since the war the only thing she hated more than Kefka was storms, ever since a storm had sent tornados whipping through her unit’s camp on the way to Maranda. This flying through one... _Baby_ , he thought, squeezing her tightly. “I dunno,” he replied.

The ship shook again, rattling dishes in the cabinets. Celes whimpered. Relm appeared in the doorway to the sickrooms. “What’s going on out there?” she asked.

“Setzer’s flying through a storm for some reason,” Terra replied.

“Could you go tell him to stop? Gau and I are having a hard enough time trying to take care of everyone without all this jerking around.”

The treasure hunter felt a spot of wetness growing on his shirt and rage surged within him. “I’ll go do it,” he said through gritted teeth. “This’s crazy, flyin’ in a storm.” He kissed the top of Celes’ head. “I’ll get him t’stop, love.”

She looked up at him. “Be careful,” she replied, uncurling her fingers from his leather jacket.

“Thanks, Locke,” Relm said. She disappeared back into the sickroom.

He stood and opened the door, sending several inches of water rushing from the landing into the cabin. He stepped through and closed it tightly, then climbed to soaking ladder to the deck. The winds blasted him as his head and torso reached deck-high, and he clung to the railings on the ladder. “Setzer!” he shouted.

The man didn’t turn, but Locke heard him cry, “You’re not going to get me! You’re mine!”

“Setzer!” Locke called again. He let go long enough to slick his sopping hair back from his eyes, and he pulled himself on deck and staggered to where Setzer gripped the tiller. “Setzer!”

The pilot looked at him. “What are you doing up here?” he yelled.

“What’re we doin’ down here? Are ya tryin’ t’get us all killed?”

“We’re okay!”

Another blast of wind rocked the _Falcon_ , and Locke grabbed onto Setzer’s arm to steady himself. “Fly up! We’re gonna be shredded t’pieces at this rate!”

“No! This is my ship, I fly it my way!”

A flash of lightning illuminated the pilot’s face; a chill rushed through Locke’s veins as he saw Setzer’s eyes. “Setzer, what’re ya doin’?”

“I’m doing what needs to be done,” the pilot replied.

“Well, stop doin’ that ‘n fly this tub up! Get us outta here! Now!”

“No!”

Wind like a sledgehammer smashed into the _Falcon_. She shuddered, and Locke lost his footing, sliding across the broad wooden boards. He crashed into the railing and felt the breath rush out of his lungs. The rainy deck swirled in his eyes as nausea rushed over him. Locke ground his teeth. Linking his arms through the rails, he drew himself to his feet and lurched over to the pilot. “Get us outta here!” he gasped as another gust of wind rocked the airship.

 

——

 

Terra felt herself fall nearly horizontal as winds tossed the ship around like a child’s plaything. The tinkling sound of shattering glass told her what was going on in the cabinets, and as if in slow motion she watched loose objects fly towards her side of the ship.

A weight smashed into her, stealing the air from her lungs. She choked, trying to get breath as the airship somehow righted itself. She realized Celes had fallen against her. The woman’s eyes were filled with tears, her face whiter than Figaro’s finest china. Celes pushed away from the chair. “I-I’m sorry,” she said. “Geez, Terra, are you all right? I’m so sorry!”

The queen swallowed hard as the air finally found its way back into her. “Yeah,” she managed. How are you?”

Celes nodded. “I’m—” She let out a small scream as thunder whipped around them, followed by a triple flicker of lightning.

Terra pulled herself to her feet, struggling for balance in the wildly rocking ship. “I’m going up there to see if anyone’s actually flying. I’ll come back.” Before Celes could protest, the queen had pulled herself across the room to the door, then yanked it shut behind her. She steeled herself for the wind and climbed the ladder, grateful for the strips of sandpaper Setzer had glued to the wooden rungs.

Lightning showed her why the ship was jerking about as it was. Locke had Setzer by the shoulders, and the wheel whirled about on the tiller with no hand to steady it. She crawled on hands and knees over to them and heard Locke bellow, “Move it! Now!”

“It’s my ship! I don’t have to!” Setzer yelled back.

Locke punched him in the face. “Get us above this thing! Now!”

“No! I fly where I want!”

Another punch, and the treasure hunter roared, “Not with my wife on board! Not with all the people who’re dyin’ faster ‘cause you’re bein’ reckless! _Get us outta here_!”

“Get off!” Setzer cried.

Thunder crashed around them, and a burst of lightning reflected off the dagger in Locke’s hand. “No!” Terra cried as he brought it down against Setzer.

The pilot crumpled to the ground, and Locke flipped his knife back around. “What’re ya doin’ up here! Get back below!” he shouted at Terra.

“What did you do to him?” she yelled back.

“I knocked ‘im out with the hilt! Get him below!”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna get us outta here!”

She shook her head. “What?”

“Just go! Hurry!”

“Can you fly this thing?” she asked, making her way to the unconscious pilot.

“We’ll see! Just go!”

She grabbed Setzer by the shoulders and lifted him partway off the ground. “I can’t carry him! He’s too heavy!”

“Drag him! Just get offa this deck!”

Terra felt herself sliding, and through sheer force of will managed to keep her place and pull Setzer to the stairwell with her. Her mind spinning, she somehow managed to get him down to the landing, then opened the door and shoved him through. She slammed the door shut behind her, then dropped to her knees, gasping.

Celes was beside her in an instant. “What happened? What’s going on?”

“Locke…Locke knocked him out…” the queen shook her head, flinging water from the ends of her bedraggled hair. “He’s flying the ship now.”

Relm had appeared, and was looking at Setzer. She raised her head. “Can he fly this thing?”

“I hope so,” Terra said. A wave of dizziness and weariness swept over her as the adrenaline receded from her veins, and her eyes swam. “I hope…” The floor rushed up to meet her as the world darkened.

 

——

 

Locke reached for the tiller, the spinning wheel rushing crazily as the storm battered the rudder. The impact of fingers on whirling wood left a sick feeling in his stomach, and he launched his entire weight against it, ignoring the pain. He managed to stop the wheel and struggled to return the _Falcon_ to a straight path from it’s weaving and turns. It threatened to toss him aside. The thunder around him sounded like laughter.

 _I ain’t givin’ up_ , he thought. “I ain’t givin’ up!” he shouted at the storm. He dragged back on the tiller, bracing his feet on the control towers. The wind threatened to drag him down, but he thought of everyone down below relying on him and pulled back with all of his weight. The pain in his ribs seared as he moved, as the wind whipped his jacket around. His hair slid into his eyes, and he tightened his grip as he felt his boots slipping on the wet wood. Fire raced up one arm, but he held on. A wild, primal sound echoed in the air, and he realized it was his own voice, screaming that he wasn’t about to lose everyone to the storm.

Suddenly, the darkness parted like a curtain and a bowl of blue sky stretched over mountains of gray and white. The sun was pillowed on the clouds, golden as the back of his wife’s head on cotton sheets. He smiled. He glanced behind him, watching the storm clouds recede, then grinned as the water pooling on the deck flowed off. He realized he couldn’t feel his hands grip the wheel, and looked down at the purple limbs seemingly fused to the spokes. He muttered a curse, but gritted his teeth. “Gotta get somewhere safe,” he muttered. “That moron is gonna pay.”

 

——

 

When Terra woke, she was lying on the couch in the main cabin of the _Falcon_. A light blanket had been thrown over her, and her head rested on a bolster from one of the chairs. She closed her eyes against the light, then carefully sat up.

“Awake, then?” a cheerful voice asked, and she turned her head. Locke sat shirtless at the table, wide white bandages wrapped around his chest and one hand. “We were wonderin’ if you’d decide t’get up this mornin’.”

The queen blinked. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“This?” He held up his injured hand. “Yeah, just tried t’stop the wheel. It was goin’ faster’n I expected. I bruised a couple ribs jerkin’ about in the wind. Nothin’ that won’t heal, accordin’ t’Gau.”

Terra stood woozily. “What time is it?”

“Mornin’. We lost practically a whole day ‘cause I couldn’t figure out our direction when we got outta the storm, but we’re back on track now.”

“Where’s Celes? Is she flying now?”

“She’s in bed. Didn’t sleep at all ‘cause of the storm. Guess she was worried ‘bout me, too, or somethin’.” He grinned sheepishly. “I put her t’bed a couple hours ago.”

“Then who’s flying?”

“Setzer’s up there.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re letting him fly again?”

“Yeah. Once he woke up, it was kinda strange. Like he didn’t remember what happened. I couldn’t understand it, so I thought maybe ya could go up there ‘n figure it out.”

“All right…” She started walking towards the door, then glanced back at Locke.

He grinned. “No, Terra. I didn’t hit him _that_ hard with my knife.”

“Just checking.”

The wood around her as she climbed up on deck was still stained dark with damp, but the sky around her was clear. She peeked over the railing and saw straight to the mountains below. In the distance, a hint of gold and green shimmered.

Setzer turned as she approached him. “Hi.”

“Hello.” She was quiet for a moment, then asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Aside from a massive headache, not bad. I deserve it, though.”

“Yes.”

He stared out at the wide expanse of blue before them. “I’m really sorry about earlier. I…I don’t know what happened. I saw the storm one moment, then it’s like something took over and I flew into it. I was really…angry all of the sudden. And it wasn’t just because of Relm. She turned me down, but that’s not why I did it.” He laughed shortly. “But for the life of me I can’t remember why I was so angry.” He was quiet, and Terra walked to the railing and watched the peaks passing below them. Out of the blue, the pilot asked, “Ever had a dream that was so real, you didn’t think it was a dream?”

Something tugged at her memory, something about a demon and tears, but she turned and shook her head. “Not that I can think of, no. Why?”

Setzer laughed. “It’s stupid. But when I was flying, it was like the storm was alive and it was making me think of all these horrible times. Like I could feel them and touch them. Like I was living them again. It’s stupid, though.”

“I don’t know.”

Terra stared off into the distance. Far off below, she thought she could see a steamship, funnels blasting coal smoke, pulling into a port. She fancied she could see the people getting off, like little toys moving about the town. She wished one were her son or daughter, making their ways back to Figaro to greet her happily. She wanted to explain what was going on, hold them close, share their worry. She wanted to keep them safe.

Setzer’s voice shook her from her reverie. “Hey, your Highness, look over there.”

“Setzer,” she said, turning, “don’t call me—” She followed his finger and gasped. Before them, looming against the morning sky, the tall parapets of Figaro stretched their steel fingers. The golden sands below swirled about, the heat of the desert deterring thieves and armies better than any moat. She reached out her hand and imagined she could hold it.

The pilot laughed and swooped towards it. “Go tell the others we’re almost there. We’ll land, and as soon as we get Edgar, we’ll go on to Kohlingen.”

Entranced, she nodded and rushed down below deck. The cabin seemed impossibly dark after the clear sky, and she nearly tripped running over to her friends. Locke sat on the couch, an arm draped over Celes’ shoulders, while Relm sipped a cup of coffee. Gau was devouring a plate of bacon and eggs, pausing only to take a gulp from a glass of water. They all looked up at her as she came over.

“We’re almost in Figaro!” she exclaimed.

Celes laughed. “Good. It’ll be nice to get off this thing for awhile.”

“And since we’re in a desert, we won’t have to worry about storms,” Relm said, winking at the former general. Celes stuck her tongue out at the girl.

“Actually, Setzer’s just going to stop long enough to move Edgar onto the ship. I think he’s trying to make up for lost time.”

Gau swallowed. “It would be good to do so. I would like to assess my patients’ health, and in such darkness as in the rooms, I am unable to do so properly.”

“Well, make sure there’s room for him. I want to hurry,” Terra said.

Despite her anxiousness, it was half an hour before they were on the ground. It was determined that Gau, Setzer, and Terra would go in and retrieve her husband, and she smiled when she saw Chancellor Geoffrey waiting when she stepped off the ship. He bowed deeply to her. “Welcome home, your Highness.”

“Thank you, Geoffrey. I trust the castle has remained in good order during my absence?

He nodded. “I have done my best.”

“And his Majesty?”

“I fear there has been no change, but we haven’t stopped hoping, or trying. Our physicians care for him day and night.”

Terra nodded, feeling her heart sink slightly. “Thank you.”

The group walked into the castle, soldiers saluting at their guard posts. “We saw you coming from miles away. Had you warned us, we would have prepared a suitable welcome for you and your companions. As it stands…”

She shook her head. “We’re just here to get Edgar.” Geoffrey cocked an eyebrow, and she continued, “We’ve found a man who can help him, as well as our other friends who have fallen. He’s not the only one, we think, so we are going to bring them to Tom Rees in Kohlingen. I doubt we’ll be staying long.”

The chancellor nodded, and they changed course. The doors to her room loomed before them, polished wood gleaming in the electric lights Edgar had installed years before. Her brow wrinkled as Geoffrey pulled a set of keys from a pocket inside his outer robe and unlocked the door. “We did this for his protection. If word got out of his Majesty’s condition…”

“It would cause problems,” Terra agreed.

“As it stands, the nobles have already started to talk. I hope this man has a cure before they begin anything more than talking.”

“I hope so, too,” she replied softly, stepping through the comfortable outer chamber to their actual bedroom. Candles were lit around him, giving off a fresh herbal fragrance, and the heavy coverlet was folded in one of the chairs. On the bed, covered only by a purple silk sheet, her husband writhed. Bruises rimmed the leather bands that restrained him, and the image of poor Ciana bound on the _Falcon_ rose to her mind as tears rose to her eyes. She brushed his cheek with the back of her hand, then swept a lock of long hair as blond as the sands gusting about their desert home away from his eyes. “Eddie,” she murmured.

Setzer’s hand on her shoulder drew her back, but she took a deep breath and shrugged the hand and her tears away. She looked at Gau, who was standing against the wall. “Is there anything you can do?”

The doctor checked Edgar quickly, but shook his head. “It is similar to Ciana’s condition. I know nothing more.” He looked at Geoffrey. “These ties, are they connected to the bed in any way?”

“Around the mattress, that’s all. Why?”

“Could you please call several soldiers? We need to move him, and I would rather leave the mattress here, so I must re-bind him.”

The chancellor did as he was asked, and Terra watched as four guards came and pinned her husband to the bed while Gau adjusted the leather straps. Edgar’s tan skin had paled in the weeks of her absence, and he twitched uncontrollably under the guards’ hands. She leaned against the wall, her knees weak.

Gau wrapped him once more in the sheet, then gestured to the guards. “If you could follow me, I will lead you to the airship. Setzer?”

“Yeah. Coming.”

The doctor turned to Terra. “If you could, gather some of Edgar’s clothing. When he wakes, I am certain he will want them.” He smiled gently at her, and patted her arm. “We shall wait outside for you.”

The queen watched them go, restraining herself. _Eddie!_ her mind wailed as they walked out of the door, and she saw herself running towards him, smothering him with kisses until he woke like a figure in a fairy story. Instead, she bit her lip and walked to the armoire against the wall. She began rifling through silk and velvet and linen.

She heard someone clear his throat behind her, and saw the chancellor still standing there. “Your Highness,” he said.

“Yes?” The lace cuffs of a dress shirt spilled over her wrists.

“While I was outside, a messenger arrived. His Highness the prince has reached South Figaro and will be likely be home before midnight.”

The image of her son flashed in her mind. “Dylan is home?”

He shook his head, and the image died. “I’m afraid not. Prince Sabin returned shortly after you departed for South Figaro with some sort of news, but left a few days later, after he recovered, hoping to find you.”

“News? Recovered?”

“He came to see his Majesty and was accidentally injured by him. He suffered a minor head wound, but left as soon as he could move once more. As for the news, I’m afraid he didn’t tell me.” The chancellor spread his hands wide.

Terra went back to sorting through the clothes. “I wonder what he wants…” She stopped, then looked up. “I have to stay here until he comes back, then. If it’s important, I need to know what he has to say.”

The chancellor nodded. “I hope everything is all right.”

She turned back to the clothing. “Me, too.”

 

——

 

That night, the queen sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, a pile of letters scattered about. All were from Marissa; it seemed as if she’d written every day of her trip. She smiled as she pictured her daughter riding chocobos in the canyons outside of Tzen and camping with her friend’s family. In one letter she compared it to all the stories of adventure everyone had always told her. Terra’s smile grew sad at that. “Poor child…I hope all you ever know are those stories.”

She caught herself dozing off. Her day, after she’d said goodbye to her friends, had been spent going over documents that needed assessment Geoffrey couldn’t give. She’d settled several disputes for various minor lords, disagreements over borders, animals, marriage agreements between unborn children. “I’ll never be a true noble,” she said aloud. “Too many making silly decisions when they don’t have the authority.” More than one paper had been a request for Marissa’s hand; she’d been seeing those since the court had learned of her pregnancy nearly eight years earlier. The first time Edgar had shown her one, she’d almost torn it to shreds. His voice echoed in her mind: “I guess that’s a no, then?”

“Never,” she whispered to the fire now, alone in their bedroom. “She, and Dylan, too, deserve their own choice.”

A knock startled her, and a few envelopes scattered from her lap. She bent and picked them up, calling, “Come in!”

She looked over her shoulder and saw a familiar face appear. Her heart skipped a beat for a second as it always did when she saw her husband’s identical twin. She smiled and stood, dropping the paper onto the side table. “Sabin, welcome home.”

Terra threw her arms around him, but he pushed her away. “Don’t, I haven’t changed yet or anything.”

“Sit down, at least,” she said, leading him from the dark doorway to the well-lit corner before the fire. She wrinkled her nose. “You really didn’t change, did you?”

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

Terra cocked an eyebrow. “Normally I’d get something more like a joke from you.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Where have you been? Geoffrey said you came back, but got hurt, then left right away.”

“I went to South Figaro, but you weren’t there. I should’ve expected that, though. It had been awhile since you’d gone. I took the ferry to Nikeah, took a chocobo to Tzen and Albrook. I took a ferry to Mobliz, but they said you’d just left with Gau. I guess I just have bad timing. So I rushed back here, hoping I’d catch you. I sent a bird ahead, just in case.”

“Geoffrey told me.”

Sabin looked at the dancing flames and laughed shortly. “If I’d known it would take so long to meet up with you, I would’ve just gone myself.”

“Gone?”

The prince was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Is Setzer here?”

“No. He took Edgar and the others to Kohlingen, but he told me he’d be back tomorrow or the next day. Why?”

“The others?”

“Some other people are sick, too. Why? What’s happened that you need the airship? Is this the news you had?”

He sighed, then looked her in the eyes. His irises seemed impossibly blue in the firelight. “Something’s…happened,” he said slowly.

“What happened? What’s going on?” A stone of fear dropped in her stomach, and she swallowed hard. “Is something wrong with Dylan?”

Sabin nodded.

“What happened?” She sounded calmer than she felt.

“We were training outside, it was really early in the morning. Duncan, he’s crazy when it comes to training. Up before dawn doing exercises, meditating until late at night, and Dylan’s just a little boy. I tried to tell Duncan that it was insane to do that to him. I could handle it, but I was older when I began training with Duncan. Duncan didn’t listen to me, of course.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I was sparring with Dylan one morning. Duncan told me to because I’m supposed to be good enough to pull my punches.

“As we’re practicing, I noticed that Dylan isn’t blocking as much, that they’re getting weaker. I saw him yawn, and I stop and look over at Duncan. ‘He’s falling asleep, Master,’ I said. ‘Then wake him up! He has to learn discipline and how to master his exhaustion,’ Duncan said. So I kept fighting, but I didn’t use as much force because I was worried about hurting him. And Dylan, he’s just standing there, and his blocks are getting weaker and weaker, so I take more and more power from my blows.

“And suddenly his hands fly up in front of his face, and it looks like he’s finally got the picture, that he has to defend himself even when all he wants to do is crawl in bed, so I throw a punch at him, right at his face, right? Because that’s where his hands are, but then they fall down again, and he’s not defending at all, and I try to pull my punch but it’s too late, and it hits him on the side of the head.” He swallowed hard, but couldn’t shake the guilty tears from his voice. “And he just…stands there for a second, not moving. Doesn’t even waver. Such a long moment, his eyes wide, and then he just falls to the ground. Lands there and lies there, not making a sound. He doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. He’s just lying there, and my fist is still extended. It’s like a nightmare, but then Duncan’s there, kneeling beside Dylan who’s just lying there on the ground, and he yells at me to pick him up and bring him inside, and somehow I do. But I don’t know what to do, and Duncan tries a Phoenix Down, like we used to do on the road, he has lots of those in his house, but it doesn’t work, and I leave and I come to try to get you so we can get the airship and bring Dylan home but you’re not here, and—”

“Sabin,” Terra said, finding her voice. She put her hand on his arm absently, trying to still her racing heart. Words echoed in her skull, beating it with hammers, screaming that her son is dying while she sits here, that he’s been dying for weeks and there’s nothing she can do to stop it. She bit her lip.

“Oh, Terra, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” her husband’s brother said, openly crying.

She felt something on her face, so she brushed it and stared at her hand. Her wet fingers glistened. “Tears,” she murmured. “He’s…”

The stone in her belly burst, and she doubled over where she sat as a sob wrenched forth. It shook her, stronger than the winds of the storm, louder to her ears than the thunder. She barely felt strong arms embrace her, barely felt tough muscles under her cheek, barely felt her hands grip a travel-stained shirt.

All she felt was the pain as they wept.

 

——

 

When Setzer and the others returned the next day, Terra was waiting alone. Makeup hid the bags under her eyes, but there was nothing she could do for the screaming red lines blasting towards her pupils. Setzer’s grin vanished when he saw her. “What’s the matter?”

She held her voice steady. “Setzer, can you please take me to Duncan’s place in the mountains now?”

He nodded grimly. “Of course.”

 

——

 

She explained in as few words as possible to her friends on the _Falcon_ ; Terra was afraid to open her mouth, almost afraid to move, lest her best court mask crumble to pieces on the floor. She sat stonily, not even resting her head on Celes’ shoulder as her friend held her. Relm made tea and served it in new mugs they must have bought in Kohlingen. For a moment, Terra stared at the cup she held in her hands, wondering why they weren’t the same; the sound of breaking pottery echoed in her ears.

“Oh, no,” Celes said. Locke appeared with a rag, and the queen looked at the shards of ceramic lying in a spreading puddle of tea.

 _Because the others broke_ , she thought, moving her feet out of the way as Celes commanded.

“I’m sorry,” she said aloud, mechanically, words not feeling like words, carrying no meaning.

“It’s okay, we’ve got spares,” Relm said cheerily. The sunshine grated on Terra’s ears, and she didn’t take the proffered mug.

“Relm,” Celes said softly.

The girl walked away, and Terra traced the lines in the floor with her eyes.

           

——

 

She felt a light hand on her arm. “Terra? We’re here, honey.”

She opened her eyes and saw a wall of scarlet. She rolled over and saw a wall of gray-brown wool. She looked up. Celes looked down at her. “We’re here?”

“Let’s go get Dylan, honey,” Celes said.

Woodenly, the queen followed her friend out of the ship, out onto the grassy valley where Duncan’s hut stood, chimney merrily puffing smoke above dark slate and mountain stone. She blinked and found herself at the door; blinked again and watched a man with pate snowy as the peaks around the hut gesture for them to enter. She relaxed a bit. _This is just a dream_ , she thought, smiling. _A dream! A dream like the others! I’m at home, sitting with letters on my lap, and Sabin’s news is that Dylan’s with him, home early. It’s all a dream._ A laugh bubbled from her throat, and she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Terra?” a distant voice asked.

“It’s a dream,” she said gleefully. “It’s just a dream! I’m at home now, and I’m just dreaming all of this.” She walked around the room, rocked one ladder back chair around at a table, then dashed to the fireplace and felt its heat close on her hands. Someone grabbed her hands and yanked them away; she looked into Locke’s face. “I won’t get hurt, don’t worry. Dream fire can’t hurt me.” She jerked free of his grasp and ran over to the cot where Dylan lay. She touched one hand to his face. “And this isn’t really him, right here. He’s really up with Duncan, training away so he can become strong like his father. So can rule.”

She knotted her brow; the skin below her palm was cold. She looked around. A charcoal brazier, smoke slipping through the perforations in the metal lid, was close to the bed. She took a hook, lifted the lid, and threw in a few more chunks. “We need to make it hotter, he’s cold.”

“Terra—”

She shrugged off the hands that reached for her. “He’s cold. Feel him. He’s just a dream, but dream-Dylan is cold. If we make him warm, I’ll have fixed the dream, and it will end, and I can wake up. I can wake up because I’ve solved the puzzle, and I’ve fixed everything.” She stopped and looked at her friends behind her. “Come on, everyone,” she said. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t give me those faces. Dylan’s cold, he needs more warmth. Let’s bring him by the fire, this thing isn’t hot enough.” She dropped the lid onto the brazier and tossed the hook on the floor, then wiped the coal dust on her pants. “Help me move him, he needs to get warm.” When no one came, she reached down and lifted her son, _My dream-son_ , from the cot. His body seemed impossibly light. “He’s so cold,” she whispered. She clutched him to her body. “Don’t worry, Mama will make you warm. Mama can make you warm.” Her fingers pressed against his neck, and she felt his fluttering pulse, like the dying beat of butterfly wings. “Oh, God,” she murmured.

Her legs gave out beneath her, and she dropped to her knees, holding her unconscious son tight against her. “No. It’s a dream. It has to be a dream.” Through a curtain of tears she looked at her friends, Celes to Locke. “It’s a dream.” Setzer to Relm. “It’s just a dream, isn’t it?” Gau. “It has to be a dream.” To Duncan. Lastly, at Duncan. The expression on his face shattered her heart. “Tell me it’s all a dream.”

The muscles of her body went slack, and she slumped over, weeping. She felt someone gently take Dylan from her arms, and a voice said, “We’ll take him to the ship. Carry her, would you?”

Strong, strong arms took her and she let them. She didn’t want to fight. She couldn’t fight, _No more than this is a dream_.


	9. The Fall

Locke Cole rolled over in bed for the umpteenth time in an hour. It had started with the pillow—he’d considered himself an easy sleeper, one of those people who could nap anywhere under any circumstances. _Yeah, right_ , he thought as he punched it a few times.

Next, it had been the temperature. The light comforter on the bed was too warm, so he kicked it off and lay under the sheet. A few minutes later, though, he’d yanked it back over his bare body, only to find himself boiling again. He punched his pillow again and thrust one leg out from under the coverlet.

“Hon?” his wife asked.

He looked over at her back, the moonlight brightening her golden hair. “Yeah?”

“I can’t sleep with you moving around,” she mumbled into her pillow. “If you can’t sleep, could you at least go somewhere else?”

“Sorry, babe,” he replied. He stood and pulled on some pants, slid his feet into a pair of slippers, and left the room.

The main room was dark except for a few lamps on the walls, but the air was stagnant and warm. He checked the cupboards, rummaging around the supplies Setzer had bought for something appropriately snack-like, even some crackers or nuts, but came up empty handed. Every package he found required cooking, and, glancing at the clock, he sighed. _Just don’t have it in me t’night_ , he thought.

Finally, he walked up on deck. They were flying over the ocean towards Kohlingen, a cloudless sky stretching before them. He walked over to the railing and leaned against it, letting the pale light bathe his body. Stars shone down like tiny beacons, and he remembered a myth his mother had told him as a young child:

_“Years back, a princess loved a common farmer. She snuck off all the time to be with him, and they laughed while she learned to be a farmer, too. But her father found them out, in he sent a bunch of soldiers off to find the farmer and kill him. They arrived in the middle of the night and killed him, took his livestock, burned his fields._

_“Now, the princess knew nothing of this. She had no idea what her father had done. So when she snuck off the next day to see him, all she found was a ruin. In the center of the ruin was her beloved farmer’s body. The soldiers had moved him before they burnt the place, then left him there in the middle. The princess was so upset that she called upon all the higher powers. Most of them ignored her—she was just a lowly human—but one took pity on her and took the farmer’s body. The power hung him in the sky, high above the earth, and when the king and his soldiers saw the new stars, they asked what had happened. The princess told them that the powers had raised a poor farmer above them all because he was better person than them. That’s why all the prayers for the dead have verses about raising people to the stars.”_

Locke stared at the glistening lights hanging before them. _I wonder who’s watchin’ me up there now?_

“Couldn’t sleep?” a voice asked. He turned and faced Setzer, who stood at the tiller.

“Nah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Locke looked down at the shifting ocean below him. “I just wanna know what’s goin’ on.”

“That’s what we’re working on.”

“But I don’t get it, y’know? Why the kids? Why Strago? Hell, why any of ‘em? What’d they do?” He bowed his head and closed his eyes. “And Terra. I can’t get her outta my head. I don’t ever wanna see anythin’ like that again.”

“Neither do I. How’s she doing?”

“I dunno. Sleepin’, I think. Gau gave her somethin’, a sedative t’make her sleep, but I dunno. He said he’d give her something t’morrow, too, t’clear her mind and numb the pain.” He sighed, staring off in the distance. “Maybe we oughtta take her back t’Figaro and make her stay there. Or leave her with Tom in Kohlingen. Or with my gramma. She and Celes could take care of Terra ‘til we figure out what’s goin’ on.”

“You honestly think she’d agree to that?” Locke caught the amusement in Setzer’s voice.

The treasure hunter turned. “Doubt it, but I’m worried. I don’t wanna ever see anythin’ like that again,” he repeated.

“I know. If this thing of Gau’s works tomorrow, though, she won’t be left behind. I don’t think Celes would consent to staying, either.”

Locke’s teeth flashed in the moonlight. “It’d be harder t’ convince her than Terra.”

“That’s a bet I’d be willing to take.” Setzer grinned back.

Locke turned and faced the stars once more. “Whaddaya think’s goin’ on here, Setzer?”

“Honestly, I’ve got no clue. But we’ll find something. Just have to be patient and keep looking, right?”

“I just hope we’re not too late.”

“We aren’t. A month, right? Few days less, maybe?”

“Yeah.” Locke yawned. “I’m gonna go back down. Want me t’bring ya somethin’ before I go t’bed?”

“No, thanks. Once we get back over land, where the wind’s more predictable, I’ll put on my autopilot and get something to drink. We should get there before morning, anyway. Go get some sleep.”

“Thanks. Night, Setzer.”

“Night.”

Locke took one last look at the stars and sea, then walked back to his room. Sliding his feet from his slippers and taking off his pants, he stared at his wife in the moonlight. _Celes,_ he thought. _Maybe if I just ask nice enough you’ll agree t’stayin’ behind with Terra ‘n Dirk. Bet Dirk’d be happy t’see ya, babe. I’d miss you, but I’d be back soon enough. Bring a cure for everyone, too._ He slid under the blanket and wrapped his arm around her waist; she was still on her side as when he’d left her. _And I’d bring you a present, too, t’make up for leavin’ you like that. What’d you like? Doma steel? Somethin’ from Nikeah? Tzen? Slinky dress from Albrook. Betcha you’d look good in one of those Albrook dancer dresses._ He chuckled softly to himself, imagining his wife’s reaction to that. A baby and ten years had added their mark in weight, but the soft curve of her stomach was kind to his own fleeting muscles. “Betcha you’ll look beautiful no matter what,” he murmured into her ear, then kissed her cheek.

Abruptly, he stopped. “Celes?” he asked into the darkness. No answer. He sat up on one elbow and shook her shoulder. “Celes? You there, babe?” His heart began racing. “I know it’s late, babe, but c’mon. At least chew me out. I know you don’t sleep deeper’n a few inches. You hear a mouse three houses away ‘n wake up. Too much time in the army, right? So c’mon, baby, c’mon, Celes. Answer me.”

His shaking caused her to roll onto her back; she did so limply, and Locke’s breath stopped in his throat. Her skin, normally pale anyway, was wan as paper. He patted her cheek, his hand making soft slapping sounds on her cold flesh. “Celes? Celes! Wake up, baby, c’mon, wake up! Celes!”

 

——

 

Relm turned up the lamps in Locke’s room, illuminating the bed. He sat there wrapped in a blanket, eyes fixed on his wife, who lay in state under a light cotton sheet from the sick room. Gau reached down and pulled the blanket aside to check her with his stethoscope first on her chest, then her wrist. Absently, the treasure hunter pulled the sheet back over his wife’s exposed breasts.

“I am afraid I do not know what happened or why. However, Celes’s condition is identical to that of Katarin. Therefore, when we reach Kohlingen, we can bring her with Dylan to Tom, where he can put her into suspended animation, as well.”

Locke nodded, unblinking eyes downcast. Relm glanced over his head to the doctor, who smiled tiredly at her. “Locke?” she said.

“Huh?” He didn’t turn.

“Locke, how about we go get a cup of tea while Gau gives Celes something to help her breathe a bit better? He’s a doctor, and he can help her.”

The man didn’t move, but neither did he resist when she took him by the arm and led him to the main cabin. She sat him down on one of the couches, careful not to dislodge the blanket. It hung around him only by gravity; he made no move to cover his nakedness.

It only took a few minutes for the water to heat up. From the counter, she spoke soothing words in the tone she always used with her grandfather. It was an automatic; her tongue and voice spouted pleasantries about how they’d be in Kohlingen soon, how Celes would be taken care of, how they’d quickly find out what was wrong and make everything better. Inside, her heart thudded with memories of her grandfather.

Into the cup went the water, strained over tea leaves. She stirred them, then, from her pocket, took out the small, triangular white paper pack Gau had given her. She dumped the contents, powdery green granules, into the tea. They dissolved in the liquid as she stirred it again. A pleasant smile plastered on her face, she turned with the cup of tea. “Locke? Here, drink this. It will help calm your nerves.”

He didn’t move to accept it, so she took his hands and wrapped it around the cup. Nothing. Relm rolled her eyes. “You’re being just like Grandpa, silly. Take a drink. You don’t want to be like that old fuddy-duddy, do you?”

Locke’s head turned. Soulless eyes fixed on her. “She’s…” he whispered.

“She’s going to be fine. But you know what will make her even more fine?” She leaned in, conspiratorially close.

“What?”

The artist nodded towards the mug in his hands. “If you drink your tea.”

Mechanically, he raised it to his lips, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed the concoction. He gasped deeply, then shuddered, lowering the mug.

Relm took it from him, then set it on the table. “Isn’t that better?” she asked.

“She’s…” he murmured again. His head lolled to the side slightly.

“Don’t worry, Locke. Celes will be fine. We’ll be in Kohlingen soon, and everything will be all right.” She stood and helped him lie down. “You just rest for now, and don’t worry about a thing. It’ll all turn out all right.” She took the throw from the back of the sofa and spread it lightly over him.

He yawned. “Promise you’ll wake me up when we get there?”

Relm’s mind flashed to the old man lying in the basement of Tom’s decrepit cottage, and she smiled gently. She bent and brushed Locke’s hair out of his eyes. “I will. Just rest for now.” She picked up the mug and rinsed it in the sink. When she turned back, she could tell from the gentle rise and fall of the blanket and the noisy snores that he’d fallen asleep. She took a deep breath herself and went back to Celes’ room.

Gau removed the nubs of his stethoscope from his ears as she entered. “What’s the diagnosis?”

“I see no differences between her and the others who have lapsed into this complete unconsciousness: Dylan, Cyan, Katarin…they are all the same.” He sighed, and when he faced her, his golden eyes were dull with exhaustion.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said automatically.

“Yes. And Locke?”

“Sleeping out on the couch. I figured we’d just leave Celes here, and I’m not strong enough to move Locke by myself. I’d feel bad if we woke Sabin to do it for us.” Gau nodded, and Relm slipped him a grin. “Your drugs are quick.”

“They certainly work, and for that I am glad. I have prepared some for tomorrow for Terra; before I sleep, I need to make another for Locke.”

“I saw what you did, and you wrote it down, didn’t you? I could make it. You need to sleep, too, Mr. Doctor. You’re no good to us if you collapse, too.”

He opened his mouth to complain, but then smiled gently. “I suppose you are right. At least allow me to watch as you do it, to prevent—” He stopped himself. “To…”

“So I don’t screw up?” Relm winked. “Yeah, I know. It’s not quite like mixing paints.”

They worked quickly, and it was only a few minutes before they had another batch of the concoction they’d made to help Terra. “It’s a pretty color,” she said as she folded it into another white paper. “If you were making it for a kid, you’d probably have to make it ugly so they wouldn’t touch it.”

“For children I put it in capsules, but that is unnecessary, as we give them each a dosage on our own.”

From the corner of her eye, Relm watched him waver. She turned and smiled. “Let me make you something. Are you hungry? You didn’t eat dinner today.”

“Thank you.”

Together, they walked to the main cabin. She led the doctor to a table in the corner, and he sat down. Below the wooden cover, she knew, was a green felt billiards surface. Walking to the kitchenette, she wondered exactly how much use a wanderer like Setzer got out of it.

She made a sandwich and two cups of tea using the rest of Locke’s hot water, then brought it over. She stopped several feet away, holding the tray in her hands, then grinned. “Silly kid,” she chuckled, shaking her head.

Gau’s head was half-buried in his arms, his chlorine-green hair frizzing from his ponytail onto the smooth pine surface. He snored softly, his lips parted to reveal one sharp fang. Relm left the tray on the table, walked to one of the spare bedrooms, and returned with a heavy comforter. She draped it around the doctor, then sat down across from him. A little smile played at her lips as she sipped her cup of tea, simply watching the man who’d done so much for all of them.

 

——

 

Locke woke the next morning clutching to the remnants of a dream. He chased Celes though the woods, laughter echoing to the treetops, branches snapping beneath their feet. His fingers brushed her sleeve and she turned to face him—

He shot up. Memories flooded back: anger, anguish, something about the night before—

His feet padded on polished wood planks as he ran to his room blanket dripping from his shoulders, sweat dripping from his scalp. With a bang he threw the door open, then slowly walked to the bed. He knelt on the mattress, reaching for her, then dropped, clutching his head, his mouth suddenly dry. “Celes,” he rasped.

How long he lay curled he didn’t know, but when he rose, he left a wet spot where his face had been. He smoothed the empty spot where his wife ought to be, where he’d left her the night before, the cotton sheets cold, uninviting. A few long strands of shimmering hair so blonde as to be almost white clung to the pillowcase; he lifted them, held them taunt in the light from the porthole. He took a deep breath. His chin tensed. He left.

The other rooms were empty, too, and he felt a burning in his belly. “They took her,” he muttered. “All of them. Gone. Took her.” He tried to swallow, but couldn’t find the spit.

Finally he found the note. It rested on top of a sandwich, beside a glass of water. “You need your strength,” it read; below, Setzer had signed it. “PS: Go see your son. We’ll meet you later. Feel better, pal.” Locke scowled and tossed back the water.

Despite his best—or worst—intentions, the food refreshed him. His mind cleared, and he looked around the main cabin as if seeing it for the first time that morning. In the back of his mind nibbled the worry and fear, but it was shut out from the thinking part. He nodded, understanding what needed to be done.

In his room he dressed and packed the bag he and Celes had brought when they returned to the _Falcon_ to travel to Figaro. He’d leave her things at home, now, but keep his own here, waiting. It was easy; his wife had always packed light, packed only the things necessary for her survival. He’d always appreciated that; it meant they could carry more back with them from their explorations. _I wish I could bring her back home healthy_ , he thought.

It was a short walk back into town. As he walked the paths, people who’d once shunned him shouted their greetings. He waved in return, sending them a false smile. Those who tried to stop him received a grin and a promise to talk later. “Busy now, sorry,” he said, walking off. They shook their head or waved or wished him well, but he didn’t pay attention to which.

The path below his feet turned to dust, then to a pine-needle carpet as he entered the woods. Shortly after their marriage he and his wife had built a house away from the main part of town, and the years had scarcely dulled the paint or scarred the shingles. His wife, the perfectionist, kept it in better shape than even the servants in Jidoor, and he knew as he walked up to it now that she’d meant it to last for generations, no matter how wealthy their family became.

A wide wooden gate opened at his touch, silent on well-oiled iron hinges, then swung shut behind him, latch clicking amidst the mid-morning hum of cicadas and singing birds. He strode up the brick-paved walk to the door, admiring the blooming flowers in well-tended beds. The arched door with it’s iron-grated window, painted red for “welcome,” greeted him, and he smiled grimly. Swallowing hard, he opened it. “Hello, the house!” he called.

“Dad!” Footsteps pounded on the floor as his son ran in to the atrium barefoot, then launched himself at Locke. “You’re home!”

“Hey, boy, whatcha up to?” The treasure hunter squeezed Dirk tight, then ruffled his son’s scraggly blonde hair.

“Nothin’…oh, Dad! You and Mom gotta see what I can do with the rods!” His son looked around. “Where’s Mom?”

Locke’s forced smile grew. “She’s in town at Tom’s right now.”

Dirk shrugged, and Gramma Brown appeared in the doorway. “Whazzis noise I hear? Izzat you, Locke?”

He succumbed to his foster mother’s embrace and obligatory kiss on the cheek, which he had to bed to receive. She was only marginally taller than his eight-year-old son, but much rounder. “It’s me.”

“Dad! Lemme show you my tricks!” His son tugged Locke’s jacket sleeve.

Gramma Brown’s eyes twinkled. “He’s been practicing since you showed him a few days ago. He didn’t believe me when I told him you used to be even faster at that game than you are now.”

Locke laughed. “Yeah, it’s been awhile. Don’t get much practice now.”

“Dad!” Dirk whined.

“All right, all right.” He followed Dirk into the living room, and watched as his son bent and thrust metal rods into a flimsy paper box. Some rods were painted green, while the others were gleaming silver. His son began yanking the green rods from the box, getting all but three out before the whole mass collapsed on the floor. He turned, beaming. “See, Dad?”

“You’ve gotten better.” Locke squatted by his son. “But see, if you’d taken out the ones in these holes right here last, you woulda gotten ‘em all.” He put the rods in again and showed his son.

“But ya said they ain’t always like that, Dad!”

“That’s the trick. The whole part of this game is t’be fast, no matter how it’s set up. Always gotta hurry so it doesn’t collapse on you.”

“I still can’t believe ya gave ‘im that game,” Gramma Brown said from the doorway. “ I can’t believe Celes letcha do it, either.”

Locke turned and shrugged. “Doesn’t do any harm. Makes his hand-eye coordination and dexterity better. No harm in that, right?”

“Makes ‘im run off with my cookies quicker, that’s for sure,” the old woman scowled. Dirk smiled sheepishly.

“Just make sure it’s just cookies you’re takin’, boy,” Locke warned. “If I find out some townsfolk’re missin’ a couple GP—”

“Dad, I ain’t gonna do that!”

Locke’s voice softened. “I know. You got too much of your mother in you t’do somethin’ like that.” He glanced at the wall clock, then smiled at his son. “Let’s go for a walk. Whaddaya say, boy?”

“Yeah!”

He stood, and the child hopped up from the floor. “Go get dressed then, ‘n meet me back down here.”

His son scampered out of the room; his feet thumped on the staircase. Once they padded on the floorboards overhead, Gramma Brown smiled sadly at Locke. “She ain’t at Tom’s, is she, boy?”

“She is.” The treasure hunter looked at his son’s toys scattered about the floor, the pine boards he and Celes had sanded and finished themselves, still shiny after eight, almost nine years. “She’s lyin’ there with the rest of ‘em, the ones we brought here last time.”

“She gonna be okay?”

“I hope so. Gonna do everythin’ I can t’make it that way.”

Soft feet padded on the floor, and he felt one cool, withered hand on his cheek. He looked down into the eyes of his foster mother, chocolate eyes that had seen him grow into a man against impossible odds, eyes that captured him and held him close and promised to protect. “Don’t ya worry, boy. Gotta work for it, ‘n I know ya’ll make it better. Ya gonna tell the kid?”

Locke nodded. “Better if he knows now’n he find out when it’s too late. Gonna take ‘im t’see the grove, too. In case people start talkin’.”

“Yeah. Better if ya tell ‘im the truth, boy. Kids can tell if ya lie t’ ‘em, least about somethin’ like this.”

“Dad! I’m ready!”

Locke looked over at Dirk, dressed in a worn, oversized shirt that had been Locke’s thirty or so years earlier and pants that’d been torn at the knees, threads ragged where they’d been ripped. “Go out in public like that, boy?”

“Just goin’ for a walk, Dad. Ain’t goin’ nowhere special.”

“Reminds me of another kid at that age,” Gramma Brown grinned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Locke replied. “All right, boy, let’s go.”

“Back afore lunch, boys?”

“Yeah, I’ll bring ‘im back,” the treasure hunter answered. He closed the door behind him as they left.

Dirk ran ahead, sometimes sprinting back to show his dad an interesting rock or a cicada he’d caught. Locke kept up easily, watching the trees and underbrush, following a trail he already knew by heart. The leaves were just starting to turn; at this latitude, autumn whispered in every breeze. _‘Bout this time when I left ‘er, too_ , he thought.

He called his son back when he found the break in the bushes, where the roots of trees and branches intertwined to make a sort of natural screen. He pushed the hanging vines aside, watching for snakes, then motioned Dirk through. As Locke squeezed through himself—the hole seemed smaller than when he’d gone through it last—he smiled at his son’s cries of delight. “Dad, this’s totally cool!”

Dirk climbed up on the bench, a board on two flat rocks, and hopped up and down. Something shiny caught his eye, and he ran over and lifted it from the dirt: a shard of green glass from an old bottle. “Look, it’s all bumpy ‘n stuff. Ain’t well-made at all.”

“Wasn’t made t’be fine like the stuff at work, boy,” Locke said, pleased that his son recognized the quality. “Just t’hold root beer or somethin’ like that.”

“Like Pete’s dad makes sometimes? But I think ‘e uses better glass’n this.” The child bent and scraped at the dirt. “Found the rest of it.” He held it up to the light filtering through a canopy of green. “Nope, ya can see where it’s all wavy ‘n stuff. Pretty worthless, even afore it broke.”

“Careful, boy. Don’t wanna cut yourself.”

“I know, Dad.” He put the bottle down, then looked at the ground at his feet. “Wonder what else’s under here. Bet it’s somethin’ sweet. How’d ya know ‘bout this place, Dad?”

“It was our place.” Locke looked from the trunks of the trees, scarred and, in some places, scraped free of bark, and placed his palm on one. His eyes found his son’s, bright and green.”

“Who’s ‘our’? You ‘n Mom?”

“Nah. Me ‘n Rachel.”

“Rachel? Who’s that?” His son’s face screwed up tight, thinking, an expression so like Celes’ that it tore at Locke’s heart just seeing it. “Don’t think ya ever mentioned ‘er…there’s Mom, ‘n Terra, ‘n Relm…don’t remember no Rachel.”

“That’s ‘cause she died a long time before you were born, boy. Before I met Mom.” Locke looked at the sky, picturing afternoons merging into evenings with the dark-haired beauty of Kohlingen, the only person who would even talk to an “outsider” like him, even though he came to their town as a young child. He caught her laugher on the wind and sighed then said. “She was my best friend.”

“You were friends with a girl? Eww!”

He turned and smiled at his son. _Lucky you never had t’know what havin’ just one friend was like, boy. Lucky you got enough buddies t’know what it’s like t’think girls’re gross_ , he thought. Aloud, he said, “‘N ya know what? Sometimes, when we were teenagers, I’d even kiss ‘er.” He winked at Dirk.

“Eww!” Locke laughed at the look of disgust on Dirk’s face. “That’s why ya didn’t tell me ‘bout ‘er!”

“Nah…”

“Then why not?”

Locke looked over at a tree, and he could still faintly see the letters carved into the trunk. He quietly walked over to it and brushed them, tracing the heart and the “L.C. + R.H.” with a fingertip. “She died a long time ago, and it hurts t’talk about her. Imperials killed her. Just a kid, still. Not even full grown. Not even seventeen.” He bit his lip, picturing her smiling hazel eyes.”

“‘N then ya met Mom ‘n married ‘er, didn’t ya? ‘N then ya had me, ‘n that’s the end of the story.” Out of the corner of his eye, Locke saw his son plop down on the wooden bench. “So what does it matter that ya had a girl for a friend, if she’s dead ‘n the Empire’s been beat up by you ‘n Mom?”

Locke walked over and sat down next to his son. “I wanted ya t’know, in case somethin’ bad happens ‘n people start talkin’. I wanted ya t’know what they’re talkin’ about.”

“Why’d they talk, Dad?”

            He took a deep breath and looked into his son’s earnest blue eyes. “Boy, somethin’…somethin’s wrong with Mom. Remember how we found our friends and theyr’e all sick? Somehow Mom got sick, too, and we gotta figure out how t’make her better. Mom’s stayin’ with Tom ‘til we figure it out, and ‘n ya need t’know in case…” he swallowed hard. “In case somethin’ happens and we don’t fix her fast enough.”

“Mom’s…” Dirk hopped up. “We gotta go see ‘er, Dad! Let’s go!”

“Dirk, no—”

“C’mon, Dad! If she’s just over at Tom’s—” The child started running towards the entrance of the grove.

“Dirk, no!” The words came out more harshly than Locke intended, and his son stopped in his steps, then turned slowly and looked at him, eyes bright. “Dirk. I’m sorry, boy, c’mere.” Woodenly, his son came and sat back on the bench. Locke crouched in front of the child. “I’m sorry, Dirk. I didn’t mean t’yell. You just gotta understand, I know you wanna see your Mom. I wanna see her, too. But I can’t let you.”

“Why not, Dad? She’d see me.” Seeing his son’s stubborn face, Locke bit his lip.

“‘Cause we dunno what’s causin’ this. We dunno why it’s hittin’ the people it is and we don’t know how t’make anyone better. When we figure that out, you can go see your Mom all you want. ‘Til then, I don’t want you goin’ there. I don’t want you t’get whatever it is.” An image of Terra holding her son’s hand appeared in Locke’s head, and he stared his own son in the eyes. “I don’t wanna see you there, sick like the rest of ‘em.”

“Dad, I—”

“Promise me, boy, that you’re not gonna go there. Not even after I leave with my friends t’morrow.”

“Dad,” Dirk whined.

Locke grinned against the pain in his chest. “You’re my boy, all right,” he said, ruffling his son’s pale blond hair. “That’s the first thing I’d think of, too.”

His son smiled guiltily, then frowned. “Ya always said Mom’s healthier’n a purebred chocobo, though, Dad. Why’d she get sick?”

“I dunno, boy. But I’m gonna do whatever it takes t’find out.”

“‘N then you’ll come back ‘n make ‘er better ‘n stay?”

“Yup.”

“Promise?”

Locke looked at his son, the elfin face that reminded him so much of his wife, then gathered the child close to him. “Promise, boy.”

After a few moments, his son wiggled restlessly in his arms. “Dad, c’mon! Mom ain’t dead! Ya gotta hurry ‘n save ‘er!”

The treasure hunter sat back on his heels, then stood. “You’re right.” He looked up at the sky and the shadows of the trees surrounding them. “Almost noon; we’d better go back before Gramma Brown decides not t’make lunch.”

“Yeah!” His son ducked out of the grove, and Locke followed him. Instead of running ahead, though, he walked by his father’s side, one grubby hand clasped in Locke’s firm grip. “Dad?” the child asked after several minutes.

“Yeah, boy?”

“Ya think Rachel’d mind if I came ‘n played in her grove sometimes? I mean, if she ain’t usin’ it, maybe I could bring some of my friends out ‘n dig around?”

Locke looked down at his son’s face and smiled. “Nah, I don’t think she’d mind. Always hated a secret t’go t’waste.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, hand in hand, the leaves rustling, browning above them, and geese honking as they began their southward journeys.

 

——

 

Later that afternoon, when Dirk was upstairs taking a nap, Locke stepped out. “I’ll be back. We’re probably not leavin’ ‘til tomorrow,” he told Gramma Brown.

“Take care, boy,” she replied.

He didn’t pay attention to where his feet took him; instead, he let them lead where they would, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He shrugged off advances from his neighbors, keeping his stares inside. _Funny how I had t’save the world t’prove I’m a somebody_ , he thought. _Least they don’t treat the boy like that_. With gritted teeth he fended off further thought as tears rose to his eyes.

The dirt paths and his feet led him to a door familiar as his own, chewed by insects over half a lifetime of abandonment. _Has it really been that long_? he asked himself as he pushed it open, the leather hinges squeaking.

The inside was almost as he remembered. The bed sheets had holes as large as his fist from mice, a bird’s nest was tucked in a corner between wall, roof, and rafter, and a layer of dust deep as his heel covered everything. It shimmered in what little light passed through the filthy lead-pane windows. He crossed the floor to the kitchen and found a rag in a drawer, pumped some water into the sink—the first bucket’s worth ran rust red before it paled to something resembling clarity—and soaked the rag. Water dripped from the ends of the rag into the dust on the floor like spots of blood on a pale face.

He wiped down the table, polished it until gleaming, then wiped down the chairs surrounding it. He had to ring out the rag several times, but the furniture looked better for the cleaning. It kept the thoughts at bay.

The lesson he’d learned over his lifetime—work hard to stop thought—failed him this time. He scarcely made it past the third windowpane before his vision grew streaky as the mud, and he leaned against the plastered wall, forehead on his arm. “What am I doin’?”

No immediate answer presented itself, and he tossed the rag into the sink and sat down at the table. “Someone comes in, think’s I’m fixin’ it up t’sell. Another relic. An antique. Stupid. Don’t make a difference if this place shines.” He looked around, the rusty fixtures, the sooty mantle, the cracked plaster. “Tear it down. Just a memory, anyway. Never thought it’d just be a memory.”

His elbows were on the table, and he held his forehead in his palms. “And her? She just gonna be a memory, too? For me and Dirk? He gonna lose his mom, too? At least he’s no outsider. Celes and I can at least give him that.” His chin trembled. “I dunno if I can do it. If I lose her…we’ll raise him, me and Gramma Brown, if I survive it.” He slammed his fist on the table; the _thud_ echoed in the small room. “Dammit! I already lost so much…why I gotta lose more?”

The room was quiet for a long time. Outside, distantly, Locke thought he heard the sounds of children playing, of laughter. A memory flashed in his mind: a snowball fight, twin banks piled high and iced to prevent invasion, the _whiff_ and sudden chill of powder hitting already apple-red cheeks. Celes laughing as he pulled her knit cap off and dumped a handful of snow on her head. The taste of tears salty on his tongue from laughing so hard. He tasted salt now, his mouth open as a sob ripped through. “I can’t lose her,” he choked, and buried his head in his arms.

 

——

 

Terra looked up as the door to the pub opened and watched as Locke sat down in the chair next to hers. “Hey,” he said. His eyes seemed rimmed with red, but in the flicker of the candles lighting the evening, she couldn’t tell.

“Hello,” she replied. “How’re you?”

He made a noncommittal noise. “You?”

“About the same,” she said with a half-smile. “Did you get to see your son?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t too happy t’see ya guys left me, though.” He raised a hand and caught the attention of a passing barmaid. “Miss?”

“Usual, Mr. Cole?”

“Yeah. No, wait. Second thought, make it the ale. Feel like somethin’ a little stronger t’night.”

“No problem.” The young woman walked off.

“What?” Locke asked, catching the look on Terra’s face.

“‘Something stronger’?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Alcohol dulls the reflexes, makes it easier t’get swindled.” He looked around the room. “T’night…I don’t really care.”

The queen nodded, and they were quiet until the barmaid brought a mug brimming with frothy golden liquid. Locke slipped her a few GP, and Terra wondered if he’d even bothered to count the coins. She watched him take a healthy swig, wondering if she should say something.

He beat her to it. “What’re we doin’, then?”

“We were going to go to Jidoor, I believe. Gau wants to look in the medical library there, and he thought we could talk to Dr. Varr again. I don’t particularly want to go, though.”

“I can stop any creep who tries t’hurt ya.”

Terra looked at the battered table in front of her. “You remember that, then.”

“Yeah. Naturally. Someone tries t’hurt my wife, ‘course I remember it.”

“To tell the truth, Locke…” She traced the ridges in the wood with her fingertip. “It wasn’t just some person…Dr. Varr threatened us, and Celes was worried you’d be upset if you found out.”

She caught the look on his face before he lifted the mug again and drained it. She shuddered.

His voice was steady when he replied, “I’m goin’ with you, then, t’morrow, when you go see him.”

Terra raised an eyebrow. “You’re coming, too?”

“Ya think I’d stay back?”

“Well, with Celes…well, and there’s Dirk, too. I’d think you’d want to be with them. At least, that’s what Setzer and Gau thought.”

“You think I’d just stay here watchin’ her? Instead of tryin’ t’figure out what the hell’s goin’ on? Yeah.” He stared into his mug as if wondering where the ale went. He held it out to the barmaid as she passed them.

“What’d Tom say?” he asked when he got his now-full mug back.

“You didn’t see him? I would’ve thought you’d go see…”

Locke put down his mug and shook his head, licking his upper lip. “Nah,” he rasped.

“Why not?” she asked when no clarification seemed forthcoming.

“Don’t want t’see it…means it’s real, ‘n I don’t wanna lose it like—” he swallowed the last bit and looked away. She could see him searching for an alternative.

“Like me,” she finished for him.

“Yeah.”

She stared at the dirt ringing her fingernails; Locke’s mug _clunked_ on the table. “What’d Tom say ‘bout Dylan?” he asked gently.

“He’s lucky,” she replied. “He should be dead by now, after so long with no real care. Either Duncan’s a genius at keeping people alive, or Dylan himself is clinging with all he’s got. I don’t know.”

A hand reached across the table and took hers. She looked up. Locke’s green eyes reflected the firelight. “Don’t worry, Terra,” he said, squeezing her hand. “We’re not gonna lose them. We’ll figure out what’s goin’ on, then figure out how t’bring them back.” He let go and leaned back, taking another gulp from his mug. He set it back on the table. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. We got rooms for ourselves at the inn, but we didn’t get one for you because we thought—”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind stayin’ at home t’night. Be nice t’read t’Dirk t’night.” He stood with surprising steadiness. “Oughtta go before he goes t’bed.”

“Want me to walk you back?” she asked.

“Nah. I’m good. Take care. I’ll meet you guys back at the ship t’morrow mornin’. G’night.”

She watched him walk off, then, leaving some coins on the table, went to her own room, hoping all would go well in Jidoor.

 

——

 

Four of them stood outside the medical school, mid-afternoon slanting down on them along the broad avenue. Gau ran his fingers over his hair, then adjusted his long white coat. Relm stood at his side, the black sleeves of her loose overshirt fluttering in the wind with the cord lacing the front. Her mouth hung open as she gawked. “It’s grown since I was last here,” she said for the sixteenth time since they’d arrived.

“That’s what towns do,” Locke replied, his hand resting on the hilt of one dagger at his hip. “Nothin’ special.”

“Locke,” Terra murmured. She hugged herself as the wind whipped her ponytail. “Let’s just get this over with and leave as soon as possible.”

“Agreed,” Gau replied. “I shall be in the library, searching for any information I can find.” He turned to the artist. “When I am finished, I shall accompany you to the shopping district.”

She gave him a disgusted look. “I didn’t come here for _that_. I came to help you look.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. What do you take me for? Some kid who doesn’t know how to read a book?”

Gau nodded in a half-bow. “Pardon me. I meant no offense.”

“Yeah, well…” she trailed off and looked away.

“Let’s go. We’ll met y’all back at the inn t’night. Hope you find somethin’.” Locke turned and started walking, and Terra followed close. Behind her, the doctor and artist followed.

The bored-seeming man still sat at his desk in the atrium, spinning a pen on the curve of his thumb and sighing intermittently. Gau stepped up to the heavy desk and cleared his throat. The man looked up. “Yes?”

“Paul, do you not remember me?”

The man grinned, then stood and shook the doctor’s hand. “Geez, of course! Gau! Been awhile, pal!”

A rare smile split the former wild-child’s face. “Indeed it has. Perhaps you can assist us?”

“Yeah, sure. What do you need?”

“My companions and I are searching for information on illnesses. I was hoping Ms. Arrowny and I could gain access to the school’s library, and Mr. Cole and her Highness would like to speak once more with Dr. Varr.” Gau gestured to them as he spoke in his oddly precise tongue.

Paul squinted, then grinned. “I remember you!” he said to Terra. “Hey, sorry about last time. If I’d known you were friends with Gau, here, I’d have been a little more congenial.”

The queen held back a sharp remark about geniality and virtue with a diplomatic smile. “Good day, sir.”

“Hey, Gau,” Paul said, turning back to his friend. “You go to the library—third building, remember?” He scribbled something on a sheet of stationary with his pen and offered it to the doctor. “This should get you in there. If you have problems, just come back and I’ll go with you after I take these two to see Varr.”

“Thank you.” Gau paused. “How are things now?” he asked softly.

Paul shrugged. “Been better, but you know how it is. Trying to get researchers to stage an open insurrection is like trying to take a trout out of water and tell it to survive. It just can’t be done. I’m hoping some more guys like you and me will show up soon, but I’m not holding my breath. Varr insists he pick the candidates.”

The doctor smiled grimly. “Were I free, I would assist you.”

“Yeah, buddy. I know.” Paul clapped his hands. “All right, if you’ll follow me. Hey, Gau, I’ll see you later? Staying the night?”

“Doubtless at The Aristocrats’, but perhaps we can share stories over a meal.”

“That stuffy old hotel? What, dorms not good enough for you?” Paul winked.

“I am afraid not,” Gau replied, a lopsided smile on his face. “We shall talk later. I will come see you before I leave.”

“All right. See you.” He waved as the doctor and Relm walked off.

Terra caught a glimpse of Relm’s face before she turned, and saw surprise in her sparkling eyes. A thought forced its way to the top of her mind, but she shook it away as she watched Locke and Paul start down the long corridor. She mentally prepared herself for the discussion, for the worst, as she ran after them.

Shortly, Paul turned to them and said, “I’ll back in a moment. I’m just going to announce you.” He spoke softly to the burly sentries and slipped through the oversized doors.

Locke leaned against the wall and motioned Terra closer. “Those guys?”

She followed his gaze, then looked at the floor. “I don’t know. They weren’t here before. I suspect he hired them after Celes threw the knife at him.”

The treasure hunter’s eyes flew wide. “What?”

“He threatened us, well, me, and she threw one of her knives at him. I guess she scared him.” She looked up as her friend’s laughter split the silence of the hallway. Down the hall, an unkempt head poked from a doorway and glared at them, before pulling back, the slam of a door punctuating his fury.

Locke grinned. “Maybe we got a chance, then.”

The queen scuffed the toe of her boot on the edge of the plush runner. “I don’t know. I just keep thinking that the wrong word will make it all go awry.”

He patted her shoulder. “I’ll be right there with ya, Terra.”

Paul appeared, and they looked up. “He’ll see you now.” He leaned in close. “Varr’s in a good mood at the moment, so I doubt you’ll have a problem.”

Terra nodded, and walked to the door, Locke following behind her. She took a deep breath before stepping into the luxurious office. The rich wood glowed in the light of candelabras scattered around; the heavy red velvet drapes were drawn, though the sun glowed brightly beyond them. The portly director stood as she entered, his eyes glittering in the light. “Well, good afternoon, your Highness.” A haughty smirk crossed his face he mockingly bowed. “This is an unexpected surprise.”

“I am sorry for coming on such short notice, doctor,” she replied, nodding her head.

He walked around the desk slowly, nodding his head in return. “It _is_ a surprise, your Highness. Particularly considering our last conversation ended on a rather bitter note. I hope our future dealings will be kinder?”

She stepped back a trace. “I hope so, as well. Now, I have come with a matter to discuss—” Her heart skipped a beat as the door swung shut with a loud _thunk_. She turned and looked at it. Locke was nowhere to be seen, but she heard shouts on the other side. The _thudding_ of struggle. Her head whipped back, her breath caught in her throat as she stared Georg Varr in the face. His eyes glowed, ravenous.

“I have something to discuss with you, as well, your Highness. A certain matter of…payment.” The word flowed lecherous from his tongue, and he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders.

Terra struggled, both for breath and for freedom. He gripped her strongly, sharp nails digging into skin unused to wounds after ten years of peace, and his body pressed too close for her to maneuver her knees. She swallowed hard. “Dr. Varr, I—” She fought the sickness in her stomach.

He chuckled low in his throat, a sound like a growl. “I can’t believe I let a morsel like you get away last time, your Highness. Particularly after performing such a valuable service. It’s not every day I allow a woman to distract me from my precious work. But you, your Highness, have proved particularly distracting.” One finger traced her jaw as she gasped for breath. “Yes, particularly distracting.

“Edgar,” she whispered. “Help…”

Another deep laugh filled her world. “Your husband? Or that man outside? A lover, perhaps? Will I be another to share you? Then perhaps I ought to let him in.”

“Help,” she gasped again.

“He can’t hear you, this other man of yours. My men have him restrained outside. Since he was so obviously armed, I couldn’t allow him to enter with you. Once has to be careful with one’s life, you know.” His face moved close as he pressed her against the wall. “One never knows when one might lose it.” His lips pressed tightly against hers, and she whimpered. When he pulled back, she opened her mouth wide and screamed.

A rough fist slammed into her cheek. “Royal bitch!” he shouted. He grabbed her again and slammed her against the wall. “I’m going to get my payment from you one way or another!”

Her head spun, and she felt a tear slip down her burning cheek. She felt hands on her chest, tearing at her blouse, pulling it away, popping buttons, grunting with lust. Part of her mind shrieked, jumping at her to act, but she felt sapped of strength. “Edgar,” she whispered again, so softly that she only imagined she’d spoken the word.

She heard a sound like snapping wood, and splinters showered around her. Someone, no, more than one person was shouting, and amidst the noise and clatter she heard a steady voice call, “Lobo!” Another growl followed, deep and wolfish, and the pressure was gone from her body. Her knees gave out beneath her, and she slid down the wall to the floor. She watched a form leap around the room, bristling fur a split second ahead of a familiar muscled man who clawed and bit a rotund man.

Hands touched her, first her arms, then her face, drawing her eyes away from battle. “Terra, are you all right? Terra?” a female voice asked. Slowly, she focused on it, picking Relm’s features from the blur. “Oh, your face…”

A flash of silver caught her eye, and the queen turned back to the battle. Hot crimson spurted around the steel of one of Locke’s daggers, buried nearly hilt-deep into the fat man’s calf. “Varr,” she whispered, her mind clearing slightly.

She watched him writhe, screaming on the floor, and watched as the blurry man-beast leapt from the desk onto him. The figure resolved itself into Gau, and the doctor pressed his knee against the director’s sternum. “Do you give up, Varr?”

“Yes!” he gasped.

Gau leaned forward, face inches from Varr’s purple cheeks. Gau’s hands arched on the floor, near the director’s shoulders, half a second from his neck. “Give me three reasons to let you survive today.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to some charity case.” He spat the last. His spittle shone where it landed, foamy white.

The doctor put more of his weight on his knee. “Oh, really? Perhaps you would like to reconsider.”

Varr moaned, his fingers scrambling at the carpet, then slapping at the taut muscles in Gau’s legs.

“Answer the question!” Gau growled.

“One,” he choked, “one, I never got you kicked out of school.”

“You tried, though.”

“I did, but the old bat never listened to me. Always told him you were trouble—urk!”

Gau drove his knee deeper. “That one does not count. You still have three reasons.”

“Why don’t ya just let me kill him?” Locke asked. “Better for everyone.”

The doctor shook his head, his chlorine hair stiff on his shoulders. “He deserves it, but we need answers.” He looked down at the portly man he pinned to the carpet. “Varr, you are going to very specifically answer my questions. I suppose you know that, as a doctor, I have been trained in the use of surgical tools. I am sure you can imagine what will be your fate should you choose to either lie or withhold information.” The fat man nodded as vigorously as possible. Gau looked over at Terra, then Locke. “Please, ask at your leisure.”

Locke scowled. “We got a bunch of patients dyin’ in Kohlingen, and we don’t know what’s causin’ it. Any word of strange diseases hittin’ people and makin’ them unconscious?”

“Just—just what you guys told me earlier,” came the forced reply.

The treasure hunter cocked an eyebrow. “The note I gave you several weeks ago,” Gau clarified. He looked down at Varr. “Is there one who can assist us?”

“St. John. I told you this already.”

“He’s dead. Anyone else pop to mind?” Locke asked.

“No one I know of,” the director said through gritted teeth.

Gau pressed harder. “I am not sure I believe that answer, Georg. Are you sure?”

“No!” Varr yelped. “I don’t know!”

The doctor’s fingers inched towards the thick neck, and a stiletto slipped into Locke’s palm from his wrist sheath. “Let’s try that again,” the treasure hunter said darkly. “And how about a real answer this time.”

“I—I don’t know anyone! Please don’t kill me!”

“What about someone who may be able to help?” Gau asked.

The room was silent for a long moment save for the director’s gargling gasps for air. Locke stepped forward and placed one boot on Varr’s knee and leaned on it. “Got an answer yet?”

“Sorge!” came the thick reply.

“Sorge?” Locke looked to the side, knitting his brow. “Huh?”

“He’s in Zozo! An old—ugh!—friend. Runs a spy network. Knows everything about everyone on the planet. Can’t—breathe—!” He took a deep swallow of air and rolled on his side as Gau stood. The man coughed harshly.

The doctor walked over and knelt crouched before Terra. With gentle fingers he brushed her cheek. “Are you all right? It will bruise, but nothing more. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“We should get her back to the ship, first, don’t you think?” Relm said. “I want to get out of here.”

“Yes, that would be wise. Terra, are you able to stand?”

Her knees felt watery, but she leaned on her friends and found her feet. A wave of self-consciousness rushed over her, and she drew together the tatters of her blouse. Relm removed her overshirt and wrapped it around the queen’s shoulders. She pulled the cloth tight over her chest, her arms crossed beneath it.

“Locke, are you coming?” the artist asked, one arm around Terra.

The queen watched, stone-faced, as Locke flipped his needle-like dagger around and slammed the weighted hilt into the back of Varr’s neck. The corpulent man’s muscles relaxed as he lost consciousness. Relm gasped softly in Terra’s ear, but Gau smiled grimly. “Ready,” Locke replied.

“Let us go, then. I suspect leaving Jidoor may be a good choice at this juncture.”

All the doors in the long corridor were closed tightly, presumably against the noise. In the back of her foggy mind, Terra wondered what they would think when they found their director, but she had no chance to finish the thought as Paul ran up to them. “Is everything all right?” he asked, looking from person to person. “Are you okay, your Highness?”

“She will be fine. You may want to see to Dr. Varr, however. I am certain his wounds are not fatal, though they will require tending,” the doctor replied. He began walking once more.

Paul winked, falling in step beside them. “I think I will…later, though. I just started reading an interesting article from one of our old classmates.”

Gau nodded, a faint smile on his face. “Thank you for finding me, Paul.”

“I’m just glad I found you in time, friend. I came as soon as I realized the door was closed with this guy—” he nodded towards Locke, “—on the outside.” He bowed deeply. “I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner. Is there anything else I can do?”

A breeze blew against them; Terra realized they were outside, and saw the iron bars of the gate. She took a deep breath. Relm’s arm tightened around her shoulders.

The doctor looked around. “No, I am afraid not. I believe we will leave, though, with my friends.”

“That’d probably be best. We’ll talk later. Send me a line or something, will you?”

Gau clasped Paul’s hand. “I shall. Goodbye, and thank you again.”

“See you.” The man walked back through the gate, and Locke turned to Gau. “You think Setzer’s at the inn?”

“I would believe so. Why?”

“I’m gonna go get him. You two get Terra back to the _Falcon_ , get her checked out. Put her t’bed or somethin’. Make sure she doesn’t freeze.”

Relm nodded. “We will. Terra?”

The queen wobbled on her feet, and her mind whirled dizzyingly. “I…I’m sorry,” she managed before the world went black before her eyes.

 

——

 

She woke to the scent of smelling salts and shook her head to clear it. Her eyes opened, and she slowly focused. “Good,” a familiar voice said. “You are back with us.”

“You doubted it would work?” another voice said, sparking with wry laughter. “And you’re the doctor!” Strong hands helped her sit up, and the voice asked, “Think you can handle some broth, Terra?”

The queen nodded. A steaming mug pressed against her lips and tilted, enveloping her nostrils and mouth with the scent and taste of meat. Her energy slowly came back, and she lifted her hands and took the cup from the person holding it. She lowered it when it was empty and looked up at Relm. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. There’s more if you want it.”

“No, thank you.” She looked around, then down at herself. Someone had dressed her in her nightgown, and a wool blanket was twisted around her legs where she’d sat up. She realized she was on the couch in the main cabin. She stared at Gau sitting in the chair nearby.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asked.

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself, cheek aching, chin trembling. Relm sat down next to her. “He didn’t do anything else, though. Only battle scars are the bruise—and you should see it! It’s pretty impressive—one shirt, and probably awhile worth of nightmares.”

“I can help with the last, if you need me to, Terra,” Gau said. “I have more medicine to help you sleep.”

A memory flashed in her mind, a lupine form overlapping that of a man. “How can you still use your rages?” she asked out of the blue.

“What? Ah.” The doctor shrugged. “They are merely skills I learned from monsters in my youth. While I am limited to those beasts with no magical abilities or basis in magic, I may still use the strength and speed of those without.” He grinned, his fangs glinting in the light. “I supposed my Lobo would suffice for Varr.”

“It was really cool, though,” Relm said. Gau reddened slightly.

Locke walked into the room, followed by Setzer. “Doin’ better?” the treasure hunter asked. Terra nodded.

“Looks like a pretty good fight. Too bad I missed it,” Setzer grinned.

“I wish you could’ve been there instead of me,” Terra said softly.

The pilot laughed, then clapped his hands together. “So, what’s the plan, then? We’re up at altitude, just hanging here until I get some direction.”

“That guy said somethin’ about some guy in Zozo. We could check that out, see what answers we can find,” the treasure hunter replied.

“Zozo, then?”

Gau bowed his head. “We didn’t find anything of use at the medical library in what little time we looked, but I doubt we would have discovered much. It has not grown as I would have expected, and many of the texts I read quite thoroughly when I was a student. I apologize for a wasted trip and the pain it has caused.”

“Don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t have figured it out if we hadn’t gone,” Setzer replied.

Relm tipped her head thoughtfully. “Terra, how big is the library in Figaro?”

“Pretty big, I think. I don’t go there much because there aren’t many books that interest me,” she replied, slightly embarrassed.

“What kind of books, though?”

“All different types. I don’t really remember.”

Gau nodded. “I have heard Figaro’s library is the largest save for some private collections. It is a good thought, Relm.” The girl beamed.

“What?” Setzer asked.

The doctor turned to face him. “I know it is somewhat of an awkward trip, but could you take me to Figaro so I may research there?” He caught Relm’s eye, and smiled kindly before looking at the pilot again. “Relm, too. If it is as large as I recall hearing and Terra seems to believe, we may have a chance at finding some useful information there.”

“Sure. Figaro, then Zozo. Sound’s like a plan. Just settle in down here, and I should have us there by morning.” He walked out of the room.

Terra watched her friends, then lifted the cup from the table. “Relm?”

“Yes?” the girl turned around, her curls flirting with her narrow shoulders.

“May I have some more, please?”

“Of course.”

From the corner of her eye, the queen watched Gau watch Relm as she moved, and a small smile found its way to Terra’s lips. “Thank you,” she said softly.

The smile remained as she sipped and wondered.


	10. The Thief

Two days later the sky dawned dark over the town of Zozo, and Terra shivered in the cold, acidic drizzle. She pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders and surveyed the murky city, then turned to look at her companions. “I don’t know much about Zozo,” she admitted. “Do any of you?”

“I know a little,” Setzer said.

“Oh, really?” Locke asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Setzer shrugged. “Why not? It’s not really that bad a place, once you get past the rain, and there’s plenty of people willing to gamble.”

“That’s not the only thing you have to get past,” Sabin said, nodding towards a pair of drunks dozing in the gutter outside a dilapidated building, a hoard of rats scrambling over their bodies. The queen inched closer to her brother-in-law, and he put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Thank you for coming.”

“After I heard what happened, I couldn’t stay home.”

Locke turned to Setzer, his hair plastered down in the rain. “D’ya know this Sorge guy?”

Setzer shook his head. “I know of him, but I’ve never actually met him. He’s supposed to be a big criminal mastermind here. I do know the way to the bar, if that will help.”

“Why would we want to go to the bar?” Terra asked.

“Because we might find someone who knows him. In a place like this, taprooms are probably the best place to find information.”

Locke scowled, but said, “Then lead away.”

The pilot took them through the murky alleys and deserted streets of Zozo. Unconsciously Terra drifted closer and closer to the towering hulk of her brother-in-law. Sabin wrapped his arm around her shoulder, leading her on, but her every instinct screamed for flight. She looked up at him, at the rugged face so like her husband’s, and remembered why she was here in this unforgiving heap. She walked on.

The cold drizzle soon turned into an icy rain, soaking through their clothes and chilling them to the bone. Miserably Terra drew her sodden cloak tighter about her shivering frame. “Shouldn’t we stop and wait for this to let up a bit?” she asked.

Setzer turned and shook his head. “It’s only going to get worse, Terra. It won’t let up until dusk, and Zozo’s not the kind of place one willingly spends the night. At the very least I don’t think Locke wants to part with his purse.” The pilot winked at the treasure hunter.

The queen sighed. “All right, then. We might as well keep going.”

Setzer’s prediction on the worsening weather was correct, and by the time he led them to the bar, each member of the small group was ready for a warm meal near a blazing fire. The pilot drew them aside before they entered and said, “Watch yourselves in here. These creeps have no scruples whatsoever, and money isn’t the only thing they’ll try to steal. Just let me do the talking, okay? I know what’ll get their attention.” Without waiting for agreement, he barged into the bar with a cocky swagger. It was such a good imitation of Locke’s that Terra nearly burst out laughing. His next words, however, stopped her breath in her throat.

“Woman for sale!” A few of the men in the bar looked up, and the pilot turned to them. “Any of you bastards want a woman?”

The queen’s heart skipped a beat, and she could feel the blood draining from her face. _What?_ she thought, and a vision of herself running back to the _Falcon_ and hiding flashed in her mind.

Rage purpled Locke’s face. “What’s he tryin’ t’pull?” He palmed one of his knives, and Sabin laid a warning hand on the treasure hunter’s arm.

“...and healthy, too. This wench has the bearing of nobility, but she’s submissive. She’ll do anything asked of her, no matter how exotic your tastes,” the pilot was saying, a lecherous grin on his face.

_Too soon_ , Terra thought. She swallowed hard as the memory, still fresh, of another frightening lust filled her mind. She leaned against Sabin to steady herself.

“How much experience does she have?” one of the drunks at the bar asked.

Setzer grinned again. “As much as you want her to have, friend. She can be meek as a newborn kitten or as vigorous as the corner whore. Whatever your tastes, she’s got it all.”

“Hey, now that sounds like my kinda bitch. How much is she?” another thief spoke up.

The pilot turned an appraising eye upon him. “How much is she to you?”

“A hundred GP!” the thief declared after a moment of deliberation.

The pitiful offer shocked a bit of the fear from her, and her eyes narrowed. Sabin squeezed her arm, and she looked up at him. He smiled at her reassuringly. “Just watch,” he murmured, nodding to the scene.

Setzer scoffed. “A hundred? Damn, I couldn’t let her go for less than a hundred thousand!”

That offer was a little bit more realistic to the queen, but Edgar had once told her that she was worth more than the entire royal treasury, that if all the grains of sand in the world were one hundred GP coins they still wouldn’t equal her value to him. It’d been cheesy and sweet at the same time. Hot tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away. _Eddie_ …

The haggling continued, and the queen grew more angry and baffled with each passing bid. Finally in the heat of the argument, Terra leaned over and whispered to Sabin, “What is he doing?”

“If he’s doin’ what it looks like, he’s a dead man,” Locke said, his voice all the more terrible for it’s quietness.

Sabin shook his head. “It’s going to be all right. Setzer wouldn’t dare sell Terra. Trust me, Edgar would have his throat if he did.”

“He seems darin’ it all right,” the treasure hunter said from between clenched teeth.

“Just watch,” the prince said, nodding towards the pilot.

Setzer threw his hands up in the air and spoke in a tone of utter disgust. “You call yourselves men? You fools are pitiful! You wouldn’t know a good woman if she screwed you for the rest of your life! I’m leaving. Maybe I’ll find someone who can truly appreciate a good wench.” Setzer turned towards Terra. “Let’s go,” he spat, grabbing her arm roughly. He jerked her away from Sabin towards the door. He looked at the drunks and called out, “There’s only one person who could afford this wench, and none of you are him!”

“Who’s the man?” a drunkard asked in a slurred voice.

“The mighty Sorge, of course!”

Terra looked at the pilot, her jaw dropping. She closed it, nodding slightly. _Now I understand_... Setzer made a move to leave, then paused. “Perhaps one of you could take me to him. I’m willing to pay for some assistance, and I’m sure the wench would be willing to give you a little something extra for your help.” The gleam in the pilot’s eyes was one of amusement, though his face was still frightening. The queen’s own fear had fled.

One of the inebriated men looked up. “I know ‘im.” Setzer looked over at the man, and Terra followed his gaze. A man of indeterminable age with a whitish cast to one eye and scars on his cheeks stepped from the shadows.

“How can I trust you?” the pilot asked.

“Hmph. Ya dun’ hafta do anythin’ ya dun’ wanna do. But I wouldn’ lie ‘bout somethin’ when it comes t’ Sorge or women. Da boss likes me t’ keep an eye out for hot broads. I get whoever ‘e finishes wit’, so it gives me somethin’ t’ look forward t’, ya know?

The man’s entire manner offended Terra, and his words appalled the queen. Setzer, on the other hand, took the drunk’s words in stride. “Well then,” he said, “I suppose you would take us to see Sorge?”

“Sure. I’d like my reward, o’ course, cuz dats a fine lookin’ broad ya got dere an’ I’d like any reward dat honey could give me. Da money would be nice, too.” The drunk lifted his glass. “If ya got a minute, I wouldn’ mind another drink, neither.”

The pilot nodded and tossed a twenty GP coin to the man. “Drink your fill,” he said, a smile on his face. “But only _after_ you take us to where Sorge is.”

The man scowled, but pocketed the coin. He stood and walked over to them, his steps steady for one who seemed as drunk as he. He swaggered over to the door then motioned for them to follow. Setzer dragged the queen by her upper arm with seeming roughness, but she did her best to play along and seem more reluctant. Locke muttered lividly as he trailed behind, and Sabin had one meaty hand on his shoulder and was whispering something in an attempt to calm the treasure hunter down.

The drunk led them through numerous dark alleys and back streets, and several times Terra slipped on something squishy on the ground. She cringed as her imagination brought up images of what she had just stepped on. Terra shivered in her wet cloak but kept walking.

They finally came to a large, unfriendly looking place with boards over the broken windows like bandages and the door a gaping maw into the blackness beyond. The sign above the entrance proclaimed it as “Tucker’s Inn.” Terra peered closer at the sign, then saw that someone had carved another line into the “T” to make it a capital “F.” Terra scowled then looked at their inebriated guide. The drunk did not falter in his approach to the building; rather, he led them through the doorway into the dusty structure. He took them into a small room cluttered with boxes and rotting garbage. The man turned to them and said, “Y’all stay ‘ere an’ I’ll tell da boss dat dere’s someone t’ see ‘im.” He disappeared through a dark door and Terra sank onto one of the boxes.

As soon as the drunk was gone, Locke whirled on Setzer, one dagger appearing as if by magic in his fist. “What the frigging hell were you doing back there?”

“Whoa, wait a second, Locke. Hang on a sec,” the pilot said, raising his hands innocently.

“Gimme a good reason to! What were ya thinkin’, tryin’ t’sell Terra?”

“No one’s going to sell anyone today, so just put away your dagger.”

The look Locke gave the pilot could have melted stone. “We’ll see about that _after_ you tell us why you were tryin’ to sell Terra.”

“Relax. No one was going to buy her,” Setzer responded, sitting down on one of the boxes. Then he winced, as if seeing how his words could be taken. “What I meant was that you’re not good enough for that scum, er—”

Terra shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but Locke jumped in. “Treatin’ her like some whore! And now you say she’s worthless?”

“He means that even if those guys back there had been able to afford ya he still would have found a way out of selling ‘er,” a deep voice said from behind Setzer. The pilot jumped and turned as the owner of the voice stepped forward into the dim light. The man had a pale face and a decidedly fox-ish air about his lanky frame.

“Who are you?” Locke asked turning a wary eye on the newcomer.

“I am Sorge,” the man replied. He turned his gaze on each of them, but those black orbs lingered on Terra. The queen shrank beneath his sweeping eyes, feeling them come to rest on them most inappropriate places. “Good job, Gien,” he said to a figure behind him.

“I thought ya might like ‘er, boss,” the drunk replied a bit smugly. “Ya may need t’ work on da price a bit, though. She’s a little bit expensive.”

Sorge smiled. “I don’t think much negotiation will be necessary. I have some very convincing ways t’get what I want from overcharging scoundrels.” Naked lust filled his face. “Very convincing.” He leaned back and gestured with a tilt of his head. “Go back t’your drinks, Gien, and take a break. Good service deserves t’be rewarded.”

Gien bowed. “Thanks, boss,” he said, then scurried away.

When the drunk was gone, Sorge stepped forward and circled Terra. Frightened, she stepped back towards Sabin. The criminal suddenly grabbed her arm and yanked her towards him. Before she could even cry out in surprise or fear, his lips were on hers in a deep kiss. His breath was rancid in her mouth, and one of his incisors bit her lip. When he let go she raised her free hand and smacked him soundly across the face.

The man’s eyes grew even darker for a moment, and Terra prepared for a blow from him. But then to her amazement, Sorge laughed. “Good! I like mine feisty.” He looked at the others. “Come on in, and I’ll show you how it’s done.” He laughed again with carnal glee. “Maybe if ya pay enough attention I’ll let you have a turn.” He jerked Terra’s arm again, and dragged her towards a door. They went through and down a long, narrow, dark corridor. Terra’s mind reeled as they came to another door that led to a shabby little room. He threw Terra to the rush-strewn floor then motioned for a fuming Locke, curious Sabin, and grinning Setzer to follow. Terra, who sat in an undignified heap on the floor, looked up at the hulking form of Sorge as he clomped over to her. His eyes almost glowed, cat-like, in the dim light of the room. He reached out a hand to the queen. She shrunk away, tears rising in her eyes, her heart racing.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said.

Startled, Terra looked up at him. “Huh?” was all she could manage.

“For doin’ that t’ya. I tried t’be gentle, but it’s kinda hard t’be gentle when ya’ve got a rep like mine to uphold.” The criminal spread his hands helplessly. “So I was apologizin’ for what I did back there.” He waved his hand, and cautiously she took it. Effortlessly, he drew her to her feet.

Locke cocked an eyebrow. “What—no, _who_ are you?

The man bowed. “I am who I say I am: Sorge. But I didn’t mean t’hurt the Queen of Figaro.” He bowed again, this time towards Terra. “Sorry ‘bout that, your Highness.”

“How do you know who I am?” Terra asked, surpriseand relief flooding her.

“I know who all of you are. You, lady, are Terra, the queen. You’re Locke Cole, a thief from Kohlingen—”

“I’m not a thief,” the man muttered darkly.

“All right, have it your way.” Sorge shrugged and turned. “You’re Setzer Gabbiani, supposedly one of the best gamblers in the world. You, the large one, you’re Sabin, the wayward Prince of Figaro.” Sorge nodded to each in turn and caught Locke’s cocked brow. “I’ve had my spies watching you almost since you entered Zozo. Spying is the second-favorite past time of Zozoians, thievery being the first.” The man grinned.

“So you know why we’re here?” Setzer asked.

“No, I’m a little foggy on that one. I have my supposes, but my spies couldn’t tell me anythin’ for sure.”

Terra looked at him. “Dr. Varr of the Jordan Medical School in Jidoor told us to see you. He said you could answer any questions we have about medicine.”

The crime lord scowled. “That jackass is still around? I was sure someone woulda offed him by now. Last I heard of Varr he was screwin’ everythin’ female that crossed his path—and I mean _everythin’_. That kinda thing doesn’t hold over well with fathers and husbands, even in this town. So he got away about ten years ago, not long after the cracking of the world, swearin’ never t’return. He had a regiment of angry men on his tail, too.” Sorge grinned again. “So the little creep runs a med school. I might hafta drop by sometime, preferably with a couple daggers on hand.” He looked at the four curiously. “Why would he have sent you t’me, anyway? I’m not a doctor.

Terra’s heart sank. “I—I guess not, then.”

“Well, you’re here. Might as well ask ‘em anyway.” Sorge sat down in a rickety armchair. “Maybe he sent ya ‘cause of my spies or something like that.”

“Do you know of anyone who studies comas?”

“Comas? I think there was someone in Doma.”

“He’s dead,” Locke said flatly, still glaring at Setzer.

“What happened?” the crime lord asked.

“No one’s sure exactly. He was feeling better from his bout of plague, and the next morning he had a seizure and died. Some people suspect poison,” Setzer answered, oblivious to Locke’s gaze.

“Damn,” Sorge spat. “I’ll hafta have a little talk with my contact there. I _hate_ not knowin’ what’s goin’ on.”

“Is there anyone else you know of?” Terra pressed.

Sorge thought for a moment. “I don’t think so…I think most doctors just abandon their patients or feed them and hope for the best. I don’t think many actually look into cures.”

“Is there anyone else who might know?”

“I doubt it. Mine’s the most extensive spy net in the world, and though it _does_ have its problems from time to time, not much escapes me. I honestly don’t think anyone else would know ‘bout what you’re lookin’ for.”

“Is there anyone spying on us right now?” Setzer asked curiously.

“There’d better not be. I told them that if anyone spied on me in my rooms I’d kill the lot of ‘em.” The man shifted in his chair. “Well…do you have any other questions for me?”

“I don’t think—” Terra’s words were cut off by a loud crash. She spun around to see Sabin in a heap on the floor, his eyes closed and his face pale. “Sabin!” She was at his side in an instant, kneeling and searching for a pulse in his thick neck. Panic rose in her throat as her trembling fingers probed. The pale face so like Edgar’s stopped her heart. “Sabin! Wake up!”

Locke gently pulled her away, and Setzer moved beside the prince. The gambler’s face was calm as he pressed two fingers against Sabin’s neck, then wrist. “It’s there, not much, but it’s there.” The gambler looked up at the others. “We should take him to Kohlingen, there’s nothing we can do for him here. The sooner he gets that stuff of Tom’s, the better. Besides,” he added softly, “I don’t think we’ll be getting much more information. If what this guy says is right, the answer isn’t going to be found in a person.” Setzer stood and turned to Sorge. “Could we borrow a few of your men to help carry His Highness back to my airship?”

The criminal nodded, then went to the door. “Tesuka, get your lazy ass over here!” A nimble thief sprang into view. “Get some of the strongest bastards you can find t’carry this guy, will ya?” Tesuka nodded and ran off and Sorge turned to them. “Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, I’ll take care of it. Sorry I couldn’t be more help, though.”

“That’s all right.” Setzer said. “We know now we might have to start looking elsewhere. We’re bound to find something.”

As Terra looked at the motionless form of her brother-in-law, she wondered if they truly would.

 

——

 

Locke rested his elbows the railing of the _Falcon_ , the sea breeze off the coast ruffling his scraggly hair. It hadn’t dried well after their soaking in Zozo, and he was looking forward to a real shower. He grinned to himself. _A shower? Grown soft, boy_.

“It’ll be another half-hour before we get there, if you’re wondering,” Setzer called.

The treasure hunter turned and glared. “I wasn’t.”

“Hey, are you still mad about what happened? Relax. Even Terra forgave me when we took off.”

“Don’t you think that _maybe_ you shoulda told us what you were doin’ first?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the railing.

“Okay, so I could’ve done that,” the pilot admitted. “But you know how bad an actress Terra is. If I had told all of you, her fear would’ve been faked, and they would’ve found us out. You wouldn’t believe those guys in there. Like wolves. They can smell that kind of thing.” Setzer shrugged. “I could tell the exact moment when she figured it out. Sabin never really believed it.”

“Of course he wouldn’t. Or, even if he did, he knew he could have you laid out on your back in two seconds. Three, tops.”

The pilot shrugged again. “Still, I can’t believe I had you going the entire time. For a thief—just kidding, treasure hunter—I’d think you’d be a little more aware than that. You ought to know by now that I’d never sell her Highness. Can you imagine what Edgar would’ve done to me if I had been serious?”

“Can you imagine what I woulda done t’you if you’d been serious?” Setzer laughed, and Locke rolled his eyes. “ouYa coulda at least picked somethin’ a little less like tryin’ t’sell her, after what happened in Jidoor.”

Setzer’s expression changed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that. It was just one of those spur-of-the-moment things. Is she all right?”

“She forgave you, didn’t she? She’s probably too worried ‘bout Sabin right now t’even think about it.” He looked at the water-stained boards beneath his feet. “Can’t say I blame her, either.”

“How’re you holding up?”

Locke turned again and held himself on the railing by the heels of his palms. He squinted, staring off into the distant sunset, watching the rolling fields and prairies near his home pass like water beneath the ship. “It’s funny,” he said after a moment.

“What?”

“I know myself better than anyone, even though Celes might say otherwise. I’m Locke Cole, treasure hunter, former Returner, hero of the war against the Empire, thief, orphan, husband, father, middle-aged man. I’ve been in more battles than I care t’remember, lost more people than I can forget. I’ve slept on garbage in the rain, in palace suites, and everywhere in between. I know starvation, dehydration, depression. I’ve been on more of these so-called ‘adventures’ than most kids dream about.”

“Makes you really think, doesn’t it? How far we’ve come?”

Locke nodded. “This time, though, it seems like we’ve got more t’lose.” He bowed his head, closed his eyes. “I’m more scared of this than I ever was with Kefka. Crazy, huh?”

The pilot made a noncommittal noise, then said, “We’ll figure it out. Go down and tell Terra we’ll be there in a few minutes.”

The treasure hunter looked up and saw the small cottagess of Kohlingen nearby, lights just beginning to sparkle in some of the windows. He straightened. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be down when we land to help carry Sabin.”

“Thanks.”

The wooden deck and ladder were sturdy below Locke’s feet, but he felt numb when he entered the cabin. The wind above had been colder than he’d imagined. He blew on his chilly hands and sat down on a couch.

Terra appeared a few moments later, eyes dull. “I thought I heard someone come in,” she said.

“Just me. We’ll be in Kohlingen soon, accordin’ t’Setzer.”

“A little longer, then,” she murmured. Louder, she asked, “How’re you?”

“Tired, I guess. I don’t really feel like talkin’ about it.”

“Oh.” Hurt shone in her eyes. “Would you like some tea or anything? You look cold.”

“Nah. We’ll be back soon, and then I think I’ll go see Dirk. Only been a few days, but—”

“I understand,” the queen said softly. She gave him a sympathetic smile. “We’ll probably stay overnight, since we’re arriving so late. If we decide where to go tomorrow morning, maybe we can give you some more time.”

Locke nodded, and the queen stood. “Where you goin’?”

“I’m going to go make sure I’ve got everything for Sabin together for when we carry him. I don’t want to have to make a separate trip.” She shrugged.

“Okay.” She started to walk off, but Locke called, “Terra?”

“Yes?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Sorry.”

She smiled again. “It’s all right.”

He watched her go and thought to himself, _As long as I keep it t’myself it is. You already got too much worryin’ you, Terra. You don’t need t’worry about me, too._

A few minutes later, he felt the gentle _bump_ signifying their landing, and stood. Setzer clomped into the room. “Ready?”

Locke flexed his arms, then squared his shoulders. “We’ll find out.”

The pilot laughed, and they walked into the room where Sabin lay. Straining, they managed to get Sabin onto the sling Sorge’s men had left, and, grunting, they lifted it. Terra ran ahead to open the hatch.

The path was slick with mud; Setzer grumbled something about clouds he’d seen, and sweat glistened on Locke’s forehead like the leftover rain on the dying leaves. He struggled to keep his footing. He didn’t care about his clothes, which were already ruined from Zozo, but getting crushed under Sabin’s dead weight sounded less than fun.

Someone on the outskirts of town saw them and disappeared. A few minutes later, a group of men ran down the path. “Need some help?” one, the son of one of the shopkeepers, asked.

“Please,” Locke grunted. The men took a few spaces around the heavy litter and lifted it a little higher.

“Mr. Cole, where ya goin’?” The youth asked.

“Tom’s. Got a bunch of friends there.”

“Yeah, we saw ya come in with a bunch of people a few weeks ago. What’s goin’ on?” one of the other boys asked.

“Dunno, but we’re gonna find out.”

The door to the run-down shack loomed before them, dingy and gray in the twilight. “How ya plannin’ on gettin’ this guy in the basement?” the first young man asked.

“I was plannin’ on carryin’ him, I guess.”

“Let us get ‘im, then.” Before Locke could protest, the group had grabbed Sabin and were hauling him into the house, then down the groaning steps to the basement. Dumbstruck, Locke followed, Terra and Setzer behind him.

“Another one?” Tom asked when he saw them. “Here I was thinkin’ I’d be getting’ a break. What, can’t y’all stay awake or somethin’? Gettin’ enough coffee?”

“I’m sorry, Tom,” the queen apologized. “It’s just—”

He smiled, revealing crooked teeth. “Don’t worry, missy. Just playin’.” He looked at the boys who had carried Sabin. “Time was, no one’d help Locke. Nice t’see times’ve changed.”

The shopkeep’s son grinned. “World was rude afore we came along.”

“Scamps,” Tom laughed.

Locke took a deep breath, focusing on them. He gritted his teeth, then closed his eyes and pulled out his coin pouch. He hefted it, then tossed it to the youth. “Dunno how much is in there, but split it up between ya. Thanks for the help.”

“Mr. Cole—”

“I was a kid once. Buy somethin’ for a girl if ya don’t want it for yourself.”

The boy reddened, and his friends laughed and punched his arm. “Th-thanks, sir,” he said.

“Now, scram. Too many people in ‘ere already, already too warm,” Tom said. The teens shouted goodbyes over their shoulders, then scrambled back upstairs and out.

Setzer winked at Locke. “Took that much effort to pay them, then?’

He swallowed hard and shook his head. “No.”

“Ya may as well look at ‘er, boy,” Tom grumbled. “Ain’t gonna kill ya t’see. Maybe be better for ya. Make ya work harder.”

Locke took a deep breath and forced his eyes from the cabinets on the walls to the cots on the floor, his friends lying on them. He clenched his teeth as he caught a familiar glint of gold, and woodenly he fought nausea and knelt by that bed. He forced his eyes on her face.

Pale, cold as marble. Lips still coral and eyelashes black and hair fine as spun sunlight imprinted themselves in his mind, then blurred to ink stains. Her hands were crossed over her lap, and he took one and pressed it to his cheek, wetting it with the tears he couldn’t hold back. “’Why art thou yet so fair?’” he murmured into her palm, a line from one of those crazy Doman epics he’d caught her reading early in their marriage. The memory of another beauty, loved in death, flashed in his mind, and he struggled against a sob. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he shrugged it away. With a deep, racking breath he managed to control himself; his fingers scarcely trembled as he brushed his wife’s cheek. His eyes he wiped on his sleeve, then he stood and turned.

Setzer was examining a chart on the wall, rubbing his chin, while Tom checked Sabin. Terra looked up from her husband and son when he stepped up beside her. “It’s hard,” she murmured, “isn’t it?”

He nodded. “I’m gonna go home. Meet you t’morrow mornin’ at the inn?”

“Or we’ll come get you. Don’t worry, we won’t leave without you.”

“Thanks.” He looked at her one last time, and the queen reached out and squeezed his hand. “‘Night, Tom, Setzer. Thanks for everythin’.”

“No problem,” the pilot replied. Tom grunted, and Locke walked upstairs and out into the darkness of night.

He took the paths he knew by heart. Time hadn’t changed the main streets, even though the village itself had grown in ten years. The streets he took led him past the inn, where he had earned money one summer hunting rats for one GP a head, though others who’d done the same had earned at least five; past the general store, the hangout for the town boys with nothing better to do than harass local girls. Past Rachel’s house, though he didn’t stop in this time. The memory of his wife lying in similar state was too fresh to let him. He hurried past.

The cool forest welcomed him, and his boots scattered slick leaves and woodchips as he walked. Something flickered at the corner of his vision, and he tried to follow it, but saw nothing. “A bat or somethin’,” he murmured, but then he thought, “but it’s a little early, isn’t it?” He looked around him. Nothing but trees arching overhead. He shrugged, but then the flicker came again. “Hello?” he called out.

“Dad?” a familiar voice asked.

Locke turned, looking around. “Dirk?” he asked.

“Right here, Dad.” The voice was closer, and he looked about five feet in front of him. Dirk stood there, pale, dressed in an old shirt of Locke’s and a pair of pants cut off at the knees—his winter pajamas.

The treasure hunter took a step forward. “Dirk, what’re ya doin’ out here? Gramma Brown’ll have your hide for comin’ out after dark. She out here, too?”

“We all are, Dad!”

“‘All’? Whaddaya mean, ‘all’?”

“C’mon Dad! They’re all waitin’ on ya!” His son turned and scampered down the path.

“Hey! Dirk! Wait up!” Locke started chasing the child, jogging, then running after him. Every few moments, the child would stop and urge him forward with a wave of his pale hand, but it seemed to Locke that he could never catch up. The trees around him no longer seemed familiar; though he’d explored every inch of the forest as a kid, the dark trunks were oddly foreign now. His heart pounded with heavy thuds in his ears, and his legs felt like lead, like he’d been racing the dunes of Figaro Desert on foot, like someone had cast stone on him. “Dirk,” he panted. “Wait up.” He stopped and doubled over.

A pair of pale feet, clean despite the mud and wet leaves, appeared before him. “Dad, you’re takin’ too long!” the child whined. “You’re gonna be late, ‘n everyone’ll be mad!”

“Sorry…boy…” he gasped. “Ain’t used t’runnin’ like this.”

“Dad! We’re almost there! Ya can make it!”

Locke nodded, then straightened. “Take it easy. I’ll keep goin’. Stay close enough so that I can see ya, then.”

The boy whooped with glee and took off like a sprite. Locke took a deep breath, then began running once more. The sky seemed to get darker, as if descending into an unholy, starless night. Wind screamed painfully through the skeletal branches of trees, bringing images of demons and blood to Locke’s mind. Finally he spotted the smoke of a campfire through the brush, and he smiled thankfully. He watched his son wriggle his way through a small opening, and Locke blinked. _I know this place…_ He pushed his way through the bushes and vines, thorns scraping his hands and face, and appeared in the grove. “Must’ve come some back way,” he murmured, walking over to one of the trees. He touched the symbols carved into it: “L. C. + R. C.”

He looked around, seeing only the fire in the middle. “Dirk?” he called. “Boy, where’d you go?”

Laughter echoed to his ears, and he whirled and saw nothing. “Dirk? Gramma Brown? What kinda game you tryin’ t’pull? C’mon out!”

“It isn’t proper to talk to yourself,” a voice said.

The treasure hunter spun and saw a woman sitting across the flames from him. “Who’re you?”

“Gramma!” Locke watched in shock as his son ran up to the woman. “See, Gramma? I brought ‘im here for ya, just like ya wanted!”

“And you’re a good boy for doing it, Dirk. Thank you.”

Locke squinted again. “What’s goin’ on?”

“You don’t remember me? Odd, one would think you’d remember those you kill.”

“Huh? I can’t see you over the fire.”

“And to think, your son recognized me right away.” The woman stood with a trained grace even her mussed hair and tattered clothes couldn’t hide. Her face was young, skin smooth, and her eyes sparkled in a blend of tones he knew immediately. He saw them himself every time he looked in the mirror.

“M-mother?” he gasped.

The woman’s smile was almost a smirk. “Hello, Locke.”

“Wha—? What’re you doin’ here? You’re dead!”

“Another excellent observation, my son. A mother should be proud.”

Locke cupped his forehead in his hands, then looked up again. “What’s goin’ on? How can you be here?”

“Why should I not be? And I would be, had you not been born.”

The treasure hunter flinched. “Whaddaya mean by that?”

“You caused my fate. Were it not for you, I could be here all the time, watching my family. Watching my precious grandchildren grow up.”

Excitement fluttered in Locke’s heart. “‘Grandchildren’? You mean there’ll be more? ‘Cause me ‘n Celes, we’ve been tryin’—”

“Children of the children I would have had had you not killed me!” his mother roared.

“What?” Locke blinked. “I didn’t kill you. I was, what, three? Four?”

“Those soldiers came for you and killed me when you wouldn’t leave with them. If you’d just left, I could’ve gone back to my village. I could’ve married, had children with a respectable man, not that wanderer who was your father. Not that outsider.”

The word grated on Locke’s ears. “You told me to go! I ran like you told me to!”

“D’ya always argue with your mother like that?” a wry voice asked behind him. He spun and gasped. Before him, by the carving on the tree trunk a girl like a memory stood. Firelight reflected on the red highlights in the dark wave of her hair and sparkled on the gold specks in her hazel eyes. The curve of her shoulder, the swell of her breast under the white cotton dress she wore like the crest of a wave, her long fingers on her hip, tapping it, a gesture he’d forgotten…he swallowed hard. “Well?” she asked.

“Rachel? I…oh…” he reached for her, to gather her in his arms, to run his fingers through her long hair and feel like a teenager again. She shrank away, and he stopped mid-step. “What?”

“I don’t want ya touchin’ me.”

He squinted. “What? What’s wrong?”

She stepped back. “I don’t want ya near me. Only reason I’m here is ‘cause I never got t’tell ya how much I hate ya, ‘n I wanted that chance.”

The words slammed his ears, stinging. “Hate me? Rach, what’re you talkin’ about? C’mon,” he looked from his old sweetheart to his mother and back again. “What’s goin’ on here? At least give me somethin’ t’work from.”

“Do you need more than that, Locke?” his mother asked. “She says she hates you. I believe that is self-explanatory.”

“But…Rach, what happened?”

“Ya left me t’die. I died when ya didn’t save me on that bridge, ‘n then I lived as another person, the person Da wanted me t’be, for eight months after. Ya didn’t even come back.”

“You made me leave!” the treasure hunter protested. “You kicked me out!”

“Ya coulda stayed,” the girl said softly. “Ya shoulda. Ya promised t’protect me, didn’t ya?” She stepped back. “Ya broke your promise t’me, Locke. After I gave ya everythin’. Woulda given ya a daughter, too.”

Locke’s heart skipped a beat. “Daughter? Ya were—”

“She’s dead. Died when the soldiers killed me. I even remember what we were gonna call ‘er. Couldn’t remember nothin’ else, but I remembered ‘er name.”

“Danelle,” Locke whispered.

“Least ya remember that much,” Rachel said. She hugged her arms around herself.

The treasure hunter trembled. “Rach, God, I—”

“I suppose the problem really is me, then.”

Locke turned slowly and gazed at his wife, sitting on a rock, leaning against a tree, the same spot he himself had always loved when he spent afternoons with Rachel in their special grove. “Celes?” he choked, gazing at her. He shook his head. “No, honey, it isn’t. We just aren’t tryin’ hard enough. We’re not doin’ somethin’ right.” The old arguments flowed easily to his tongue.

“You don’t love me enough, then? If it isn’t me who’s the problem, that must be it. It can’t be you, not if you’ve sired two children.”

In two strides he covered the distance to his wife. “Celes, no, that’s not it—” He crouched and reached for her hands, resting pale on her knees. He nearly fell forward, meeting no resistance. “Wha…?” He stood and backed up, the very real heat of the fire nipping at his boots. “What’s goin’ on? You’re…?”

“Ghosts, Locke?” his mother asked. “Of course we are. We all are. Ghosts of your past, ghosts of the people you’ve killed through your negligence.”

Locke looked from his mother to Rachel, then his wife. “But you’re not dead!” he accused.

“I may as well be,” Celes replied softly. He heard the tears in her voice.

“You doubt her words,” his mother said. “Just as you doubt our presence here. But in your heart, you know it’s true. All must perish some day, but only some will join the stars. We already have.”

He swallowed hard. “I tried to help, I tried to be good.”

“Tryin’ means nothin’,” Rachel spat bitterly.

Locke turned to her. “I came back. I know I was too late, but I came back. I didn’t wanna leave you, but I came back when I promised myself I would, and I know I was too late…”

“Doesn’t help me none,” the girl replied. “Dead is dead.”

A flash of white caught his eye, and he watched his son walk over to Celes. “Dirk, what’re ya doin’ here? Don’t tell me…” he looked at Celes. “No, not him, too.”

“It’s too late, Locke,” his wife said, voice thick. “You can’t protect me anymore. I’m already gone. And Dirk, too. He wants to come with me, to meet the people he never knew, will never know, because of you.”

“No! Dirk, c’mere, let’s go back. This’s crazy, some hallucination or somethin’. C’mon, let’s go home, we’ll get some cocoa and tell all this t’Gramma Brown and have a laugh, then go t’bed.” His son didn’t move, and Locke said desperately, “Dirk, c’mon!”

The boy climbed up into Celes’ lap. “No, Dad. I wanna stay with Mom. She don’t lie t’me.”

Locke froze. “Dirk?”

“Ya said ya loved Rachel ‘n Mom ‘n me…Mom ‘n Rachel’re dead. If I stay with ya I’ll die anyway. I’d rather not hafta search for Mom when I do. Here with ‘er I’m safe.”

“Safe? From what?”

“From you,” Locke’s mother answered. “You won’t be able to hurt him anymore.”

“Ya lied t’everyone, Locke,” Rachel said.

“You broke your promises.” Celes.

“Ya killed everyone, Dad! I hate ya!”

Thunder tore the air as Dirk shouted the last, and Locke sank to his knees in the dirt as rain began to pour from the sky. “God,” he whispered. Lighting arced across the sky.

“You had our hearts,” Locke’s mother said, “and you chose to take our lives, too. What kind of beast did I bear into this world?” she shouted, turning her face to the thundering heavens.

He looked around, from his mother’s stony mask to Rachel’s fiery hatred to Celes’ mournful gaze to his son’s crackling eyes. Their visages seemed reflected in every drop of rain pouring from the sky, white like falling stars. All the loathing and pain he’d buried inside with each tragedy exploded from within him, and he curled into a ball, shaking. Years of guilt crushed him, choked him. He buried his head in his navel trying to hide from the shame.

Dizzily, the world spun as if he were drunk, and voices surrounded him, echoing in the downpour. “Beast.”

“Liar.”

“Murderer.”

“I hate ya!”

“Beast!”

“Liar!”

“Murderer!”

“Hate!”

Around and around they circled him, flowing around him, growing a horrible crescendo with each passing voice, until they were screaming at him, their voices stabbing harder than any knife.

“It’s all your fault!”

Overwhelmed, he screamed.


	11. The Wind

They stood on the deck of the Falcon, Setzer at the helm looking at his world map, Terra at the bow surveying the farmland surrounding Kohlingen. Both were enveloped in their thoughts.

Terra was still feeling the loss of Locke, the man who had been her rock through this whole mess. Several days before, she had gone searching for him as night descended on his hometown and found him curled in a fetal position in the woods off the trail to his home, sobbing as if his heart were broken. She attempted to touch the man, but he lashed out wildly at her. Frightened, she had called out into the woods for help. Dirk had come, then ran off to the village to get someone, anyone, as Terra instructed. She could tell he was shaken at the sight of his father, who had always been so strong, weak and scared and in tears. _If I’m feeling like this_ , she thought wearily, _imagine what Dirk must be feeling now…_

Setzer had come with men to help carry Locke, and they had taken him to Tom’s. The diagnosis was the same as the others: a coma with almost no vital signs. Tom gave him the shot of his suspended animation formula, then told them to get out of Kohlingen and help look for something to help their friends. There had been tears his eyes.

Since then, she and Setzer had been flying around to various villages, trying to find clues. They’d come up empty-handed every time, and the strain was starting to show on both their faces. The queen sighed. “We’re not going to make it, are we?” she said without turning.

“Hmm?” Setzer asked, looking up.

“We…we aren’t going to find a cure for this thing. They’re going to die, and we are going to die, and it will all be because we couldn’t find anything fast enough.”

It was Setzer’s turn to sigh. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Terra asked hotly, whirling to face the pilot. “I thought I was being rather realistic. Think about it. We’re the only ones left. You and me. Relm and Gau in Figaro. That’s it. And which one of us will be next, do you think? One of them? And what if we’re in a cave somewhere searching and we don’t know they fall and they die because we didn’t get to Figaro in time?” Setzer tried to say something, but Terra did not notice. “Or what if it’s one of us? I know you could carry me, but I couldn’t carry you. I’m not strong enough. But either way it has to be one of us. Unless its Mog or Shadow or Gogo or any of them. None of us has been in contact with them for the past ten years, even you. So what if they’ve got this, too, and are already gone? What then? And—”

A loud _crack_ rent the still late-evening air. Setzer dropped his hand, holding Terra in a gaze hard as steel. Slowly the queen raised one hand and put her palm on her burning cheek, more from shock than pain. She was locked in his glaring eyes and was silent. “Are you ready to listen?” he asked. She nodded, and he continued, “Good, because I’m only going to say this once.

“We have two and a half weeks to find out what’s wrong. Seventeen days. That’s all. Seventeen days to scour this planet and find out what’s doing this to our friends. Whoever falls next, if someone does, is not the problem we’re facing right now. I don’t know what we’re facing, and that’s our job: to find out what it is. And once we do that, we beat the living hell out of it.

“As I see it, there are similarities between the different conditions. Locke has what Ciana has: constant crying in a fetal position, almost as if they are experiencing some sort of horrible nightmare. That’s condition one. Condition two is what Celes and most of the others have, like Dylan: an almost deathlike state. Scarier, but much, much less nerve-racking. Last, there is the type Edgar has: crazed chuckling in a fetal position, almost as if he’s lost his mind. His case is obviously different from the others, but because of the way he’s acting, for now we can lump him into Locke’s group, at least until we know more.

“But Locke’s group, as I said, seems to be suffering from constant nightmares that replay over and over in their mind’s until that mind is gone. The others just seem to be in a coma. Except for an almost absence of pulse and breathing, the conditions of the two groups seems to be the same. I don’t claim to be a doctor, but I know that much.

“As for doctors, we have one working on it now, and I trust his opinion and abilities above those of any other medically trained person in the world. Working with him is the granddaughter of a wise old man, who, though going senile, taught her well her entire life. She may be an artist, she’s had the best training in researching topics in any field that can be found in this time. Both of them are scouring the largest, most complete library on the planet to find something to help our friends, and if they’re smart, they’ve got the Figaro scholars and librarians helping them. If one of them falls, the other will contact us, just like you did when you found Edgar as he was. If a week didn’t kill anyone before, it won’t kill anyone else.

“Our job now is to do the same as Gau and Relm are, only on a grander scale. We need to comb the world and figure out what is causing this to happen. We need to treat it like the battle with Kefka, because this thing is like Kefka: destroying our friends, making us worry, and without caring who it gets first. The only difference is that with Kefka, we had the luxury of knowing what we were going up against so we could prepare. We don’t know now, but worrying isn’t going to help that. Searching is.

“Terra, we have two and a half weeks to either figure this thing out to counter it or find out who or what is causing it and kill it. We do not, I repeat, do not, have enough time to worry or cry or act like little children because those we love are dying. You’ve dealt with death under these situations before. I know you have. So stop crying all the time, and whining, or praying for a miracle because those won’t solve anything. As time runs out in the safety zone, or even runs over into the red after these seventeen days are up, we should look harder and work faster, not break down and cry. So be the person I know you are, the person who defended a flock of kids for a year, the person I fought beside in the final battle with Kefka, the strong, half-Esper I know you are.” Setzer loosened his grip on her shoulders. “And please, Terra Branford Figaro, don’t ever make me slap you again.” He turned and walked back to the helm.

Terra watched him as she slid down the railing to her knees. Her hand was still pressed against her cheek, but it did not even throb where Setzer had slapped her. _He’s right, she thought. So little time, and so many places to look…and no time left for acting childish_. “I’m sorry, Setzer,” she said.

“It’s okay.” He did not turn.

They were silent for a few minutes, then Terra asked, “Where do we go from here?

 

——

 

They went to towns. In Thamasa they sought out the few remaining aged men who had been blue mages for help, asking after different causes. One man said it would not have surprised him if it was some new parasite in food, and he recommended boiling all liquids before drinking them. He served them chicken with the texture of charcoal briquettes.

Another man said that different animals could carry disease, and somehow their friends had fallen ill from close interaction with chocobos. “But Sabin and Locke were with us for a long time, and none of them were around chocobos…they couldn’t have gotten sick so slowly while others took longer. And what about Cyan? They don’t even have chocobos in Doma,” Setzer muttered as they left that house.

A third, who had been a scholar in his day, insisted that their friends were responsible, and it was “karma paying them back for the crimes they’d committed.” Terra had stormed out of that house, leaving Setzer to apologize for her rudeness and thank him for his help. He found her on the ship, punching a pillow. “That jerk dares suggest that my friends are to blame? Should’ve let Kefka have him, then see if he believes in all that ‘karma’ crap.”

Setzer merely nodded. “Where to next, then?”

Everywhere they flew and everyone with whom they spoke had a different theory on the origin of the comas. Some agreed that it was caused by parasites in food or animals; others believed it was nature’s way of stabilizing the population, a thing that ten years of peace had failed to accomplish. A few suggested that the world’s leaders succumbing to illness was a way of saying that governments were no longer necessary, and people would soon live content lives without taxes. Terra and Setzer left those meetings shaking their heads. “As soon as this is over, we’re going to have to take out these groups. We have no way to refute their claims now, and they won’t be happy when we bring everyone back. The last thing we need is some disgruntled peasant to try to kill my husband after all we’ve been through,” Terra said.

Ten days passed thus, the pair racing around the world desperately searching for someone who could explain what was going on and how to fix it, and only finding hypotheses and brewing trouble. Terra’s eyes grew red from strain, and she often woke from nightmares of hands reaching for her and familiar faces in the dark hollow with death. She took to sleeping as little as possible.

If Setzer noticed, he said nothing. Terra saw him growing gaunter, features chiseled by stress and long nights at the helm. As each day dwindled into night, his eyes became stonier, more determined. She caught him muttering to himself, “It will not defeat me. It cannot defeat me.”

_I wish I had your confidence_ , she thought.

 

——

 

With only a week left, Terra and Setzer landed outside of Maranda. The small town had survived, though not prospered, in the years since Kefka’s demise. The houses had been repaired, of course, and the general store sold goods from nearby Jidoor, but there had been practically no expansion. Despite its vicinity to the famous Opera House, the people who could afford to go there preferred the prestigious Jidoor to the traditionally backwater Maranda.

“I don’t think we’ll find much here, but we’ve visited practically every other town. And who knows, we might get lucky.”

“Who knows…” Figaro’s queen agreed.

The gambler stopped and turned to her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You can stay back in the airship if you’re tired. Maranda’s not that big, and I’m sure I’ll be able to find out just as much either way. Go back and rest.”

And let the dreams get me. “I’m fine, Setzer. Let’s go. If we don’t find anything, maybe we’ll have at least half the day to decide what to do next.”

“All right,” he reluctantly replied. “Which house first?”

The first house was empty, but they found an older woman in a small house who was willing to talk to them. “Thanks,” Setzer said as she handed him a cup of tea.

“Have you heard of anyone going into a coma for nor apparent reason?” Terra asked. After countless hours of interviews, she knew the questions by heart.

“I’m not aware of anyone having that problem here…is it contagious? Because I’ve got a daughter in Jidoor. She works with the Owzer family, and I don’t want her to get sick. Should I send my husband up to bring her back?”

“No, ma’am, we have no reason to believe that it’s contagious,” the pilot replied.

Another anticipated question; another rehearsed response. Another parent who would go to bed that night secure in the knowledge their child was safe, while many other children and parents slipped slowly into death. Her face was a careful mask as she smiled, nodded, and assuaged the fears of the unaffected. Inwardly, she plead for mercy.

Terra’s mind drifted as the cycle continued. She wanted to pay attention. She knew how much happiness positive, hopeful, helpful answers would bring the old woman and her husband that night and many nights afterward. She knew every parent they spoke to said the same things when she and Setzer left: “Poor dears, to be so young and have so many trials. Even power can’t save them from whatever is causing this. I’m glad it isn’t my loved ones and my friends, though. I’m glad it isn’t me.”

The pleas continued.

 

——

 

“Thank you for your time, ma’am. We appreciate your kindness and hospitality,” Setzer said formally as they stood in the doorway to the old lady’s house.

“You’re welcome, young man. I hope your friends are better soon. And you,” she turned to Terra, “I will pray for your family’s safe recovery. I’m sure this is all part of a higher plan for us all, and you will only be strengthened by it.”

“Thank you,” Terra replied. As they walked towards the next house, the queen said quietly, “I don’t believe in fate.”

“Hmm?” her companion asked.

“I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe that there’s any ‘higher plan’ or some being ruling our destiny. If there’s a deity at all, I’d bet GP that he or she has no idea what’s going to happen, either. I bet that deity is just sitting there watching all this like spectator at the Opera House, dying to see what the next act is. We’re writing it ourselves.”

Setzer looked towards the overcast sky, and Terra glanced up at him. His age became suddenly apparent to her, all thirty-eight years etched in his thinning face and the wrinkles around his eyes.

Finally, he spoke. “There’s a reason for all of this. I don’t know for sure if it’s divine or mortal, but whatever it is, I’m not going to stop looking for it. Giving up is giving in, and I love you guys too much to sit back and wait for what happens. Maybe we won’t find answers, and yes, maybe we’ll all die sooner than we’d hoped. But I’m going to fight it. I’ve lost too many people to human folly to believe in fate.” He looked down at her and grinned boyishly. “Besides, it’d be tragic if I died before finding someone to take care of the Falcon with me.”

The queen blinked. “You’re still not thinking—”

“—about Relm?” Setzer turned his gaze to the sky again. “No. That was stupid of me. Just someone I haven’t met yet.” After a pause, he winked at her. “Or maybe I have.” Terra narrowed her eyes at him, and he laughed. “Don’t wo—”

“Your Highness!”

Terra turned around and saw the young man running towards them. He stopped when he reached them, then doubled over, gasping for breath. “I—I—have—”

“Take your time, kid,” the pilot said. “If it’s important, we need to hear it, not have you die before you can tell us.”

After what seemed an impossibly long time to the queen, the messenger finally caught his breath. He bowed to her, then said, “I have a message from Figaro Castle for you, your Highness. It seems your researches may have found something.”

“Bingo,” Setzer said.

 

—— ****  
  


Gau cleared the table of the myriad documents he and Relm had been reading, and opened the cracked green leather-bound tome in the space. The yellowed pages crumbled beneath his fingers. “We were looking through the library, looking up every topic we could think of: politics, Edgar’s technology journals, histories, everything. We even looked in cookbooks after you sent word that some people thought it could be dietary. But then we found this. Look.”

Terra and Setzer moved in, and Gau and Relm stood on the other side of the table. “What is this?” Setzer asked.

The queen stared at the faded pictures. Traces of colored ink still stained the page, but the once-intricate drawings now appeared to be no more than stick figures. Beside them were paragraphs of an unfamiliar script, almost illegible from age. “I can’t read it,” she said.

“It’s a bestiary. Judging from the writing, it’s about seven hundred years old,” Relm replied. “See? These are all sorts of ancient beasts, and if you look…here. Do you recognize that one, Terra?”

The tusks and hooves were enough, and the queen nodded sickly. “Phunbaba.”

“Right. And see? It says he was summoned by Magicite-enhanced human warriors, the Magi, during the war one thousand years ago. Afterwards, he was sealed in the earth—”

“—and released when Kefka did his thing,” Setzer finished. “But what’s a bestiary got to do with anything?”

“Allow me.” Gau took the book and gingerly flipped towards a marked section. “This,” he said, turning the book back towards Terra and Setzer, “is an ancient beast we found interesting.”

They stared at the page. A shadowy beast surrounded by flames smirked back at them as if to say, “You dare think you can handle me?”

Terra felt a chill wash over her. “What is this?”

“It is a demon named ‘Maltraum.’ According to what it says here, it ‘infects the memories of its victims and slowly eats away at them, sending them into various conditions. The stronger the negativity of those memories, the worse their condition. Some people experience insanity, others violent fits, but the most common reaction is a death-like sleep.’ Does that sound familiar?” the doctor asked.

“Like Edgar and the others!” Relm exclaimed before the others could answer. A few scholars shot her dirty looks, but she ignored them.

“How can you read that?” Terra asked.

“I translated it. Grandfather has lots of old books in his library, and our language is just an offshoot of some of the ancient languages. The letters are like little pictures, and I used to love to draw them. Grandfather taught me to read some of them, too. This is a little older than I’m used to, but it’s close enough.”

“Oh.”

“It sounds like a rip-off of that thing that attacked Cyan in Doma before we killed Kefka,” said Setzer

“In fact, you’re correct. Wrexsoul and Maltraum are ‘brother beasts.’”

“‘Brother beasts’?”

“Yes. A pair of monsters that have similar properties and/or features, but one brother is stronger than the other. The different behemoths were brother beasts because their basic form and reliance on magic were the same.”

“But wait,” Terra said. “Wrexsoul was a demon, and so is this Maltraum. Demons are magical beings, like Espers. Magic is gone. There’s no way that demons could still exist.”

Relm dashed off, then returned with another, even older, text. “See? We found this, too, and it’s even more interesting than the monster book.” She pushed the bestiary out of the way and opened it. “See?”

“I still can’t read it, Relm.”

“This is the journal of a man named Aver Orestes, and it’s over a thousand years old. He was a half-Esper who grew up with the humans. When he was fifteen, he and his mother—his mother was an Esper and his father was human—escaped to an Esper village because of the hostility between the groups. His father was going to kill him and his mother. Anyway, he lived with the Espers, and when he got older and the war broke out for real, he went along as a scribe to send messages back to the Esper stronghold. He kept this book, too. See, here, this page. It’s a list of names.”

Terra squinted, and managed to pick out a few. “Rugher…Trace…”

Relm pointed. “And Phoenix and Crusader and Ragnarok. Recognize those?”

“Yes…why?”

“This is a list of Espers who were killed in battle. Remember how we killed the dragons to get Crusader? Grandfather told me he was killed by the dragons during the war. This book proves it! Aver even describes the battle, how he fended off four of them even as the others murdered his companions, and how Crusader shouted insults at human weakness as he was devoured. That’s more detail than we’ve ever known about Crusader, and there are a hundred other first-hand accounts like that in here. And there has to be at least three hundred names on this list. And look,” she skipped a few pages and pointed at a marked passage, “this one’s about Maduin.”

The queen swallowed hard. “My father?”

“Yeah. It says, ‘Maduin’s brother Arduin keeps telling me he wants to fight, but Mother wants him to stay here. She says he’s too young to go out into battle, but he longs to avenge his comrades. I’ve been drifting apart from almost everyone here since the escalation of the war, and I fear my friendships won’t last unless peace is made between human- and Esperkind. The others look on me as an anomaly, and sometimes I’m afraid I’ll be sacrificed for my mixed blood. The only ones who still look kindly on me are Mother, of course, and Maduin. He says that since I saved her from Father and the humans that I’m trustworthy…I just wish the others felt the same. Every time Maduin goes off to fight I worry he won’t return; right now he’s the only thing standing between me and death.’”

“Father had a brother?” Terra’s head was reeling.

“It goes on like that, and if we turn back to the list…here. ‘Arduin.’ He must’ve died not long after Aver wrote that.”

“But what does this have to do with anything? It’s just another book,” Setzer said.

“It isn’t just a war diary, even though that makes it one of the most important texts in the world. It’s philosophy, too. Theory. It’s amazing. He thought about everything, but what I want to show you is…this. Here. He’s a half-Esper, right? And Espers are embodiments of magic, right? Well, he says here that, even though lots of Espers were dying, he didn’t feel any loss in power. And this was before the statues, too. Remember, those were made to protect the entrance to the Esper world after the war, so when Aver was writing, magic was everywhere, not just in certain beings and statues. So if Espers were dying and he wasn’t getting weaker, Espers aren’t the source of magic, and if he wasn’t getting stronger, the magic had to be going somewhere else—an infinite force, not just some set amount.”

“Where does it go, then?”

“He says it goes into the world itself.”

“Huh?”

“Espers and demons and monsters are all creatures attuned to magic, and humans have to either learn it, like the Blue Mages, or take it, like we did with the magicite. But magic is important for life, too. You say what happened when Kefka changed the statues. The world was broken, and it’s recovered now, but remember that year? There was almost no vegetation and the world couldn’t heal until balance, that is, until magic was restored to it. See? Espers are a magical form, but magic exists outside of them.”

“Magic is gone,” Terra whispered.

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

“Magic is gone,” she repeated. “It is! I felt it. I know it’s gone. I’m half-Esper, too, just like this Aver person, and I know my Esper side is gone, just like the Espers are…I haven’t been able to cast magic for eleven years, Relm. Don’t go telling me magic still exists because I know it doesn’t!”

Relm gripped Terra’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “It does exist, Terra! Casting magic isn’t there, no, but the force of magic is still here! We can’t touch it, here, but it’s everywhere, otherwise the world never would’ve recovered! Think about it, there has to still be magic, even if it can’t be accessed.”

“But if it can’t be accessed,” Setzer interjected, “then how could a demon get here? We wiped them all out—Phunbaba, Wrexsoul, Chadarnook, even the dragons. And anyway, when the Espers disappeared, so did all the magical monsters in the world, too. If this Maltraum demon was wandering around, it would’ve vanished like everything else, and if it was in some demon realm, it couldn’t get here because people can’t cast magic.”

“No, see? Aver theorized on that, too. He says that magic resides deep in the earth, and the places where the barrier between our world and a magical world is thin are places strong with magic. That’s another reason why the Empire wanted to get at the entrance to the Esper world—there was lots of magic there, and it would act like a natural amplifier for the power they already had. Also, Aver says that places where magic has been concentrated for a long time will leave behind a kind of residue when the magic leaves. So, for example, if an Esper stayed in one spot for a thousand years before leaving, it’s magic would’ve rubbed off on the surrounding area, again like an amplifier. So it’s possible that if such a place exists, then someone who really wanted to do something might be able to reach one of the magical realms and summon a demon. It seems like a lot of Espers were worried that magic would disappear if they all died—which was right, as we know—and they wanted half-Espers to be able to avenge them if that was the case, so Aver was coming up with ways it might work.”

“Seems pretty far-fetched to me.”

“I agree,” Gau said. “Even if there are places where Espers stayed for a long time, and there was some magic that rubbed off in that area, it would not matter because magic has been inaccessible by humans for more than a decade now. What point lies in finding such a place if no way exists to touch the magic there?”

“Aver says that the magic in those areas will disappear over time, but never completely. Um…like radioactive minerals, y’know how they decay slowly, and keep getting smaller and smaller? It’s called a ‘half-life.’ Those minerals will degrade by half over a set amount of time, but even if you divide one by half, it becomes a half, and a half becomes a quarter, then an eighth, and so on. Even if there was a place where magic had only been for a hundred years and decayed by half every year, there would still be magic, if only a tiny bit, because you can never ever really hit zero. Most places in the world are like that. With magic gone, no one could ever summon a demon in this room. In fifty years, most places will be like that, I imagine, unless people use those old places to summon more magical creatures, then send them out over the world.”

“I still think it’s pretty hokey,” Setzer said. “Is that the best you guys’ve found?”

“It is all we have found, I fear,” Gau replied.

Relm looked at all of them. “I know it seems kinda silly, but what else do we have? It all makes sense, and it can’t be fake! Look how much he has right in this book.”

The pilot put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re the only one who can read it, Relm. You’re probably just stressed. We all are. But making wild connections isn’t going to fix anything. We need facts, not speculation.”

She whirled around and shoved his hand away. “It’s not speculation! Just because I can read it doesn’t mean I’m making it up! It’s there!” She jabbed a finger at the crumbling page. “If Grandfather were here, you’d believe him! Just because I’m a girl and I’m not that old doesn’t mean I’m not smart! I know what I’m reading, and I know this is right, even if you don’t believe me!” She looked at them in turn. “Gau, do you believe me?”

“I…”

“Terra?” She grabbed the queen’s hand and looked pleadingly at her. “C’mon, Terra. You have to know it’s true! I know it’s weird and it’s just a theory, but everything else is right. And what is there to lose? I’ll even go looking myself, you can stay here an research, just give me a chance on this one.”

Terra took a deep breath _. He mentions Father…the book is really old…but what do I do? There’s only a week left. Where would we even start? And if this is false, what then? All this time trying for nothing?_ She looked at her friends, the only ones left unharmed after so long. _Do we risk it? We have everything to lose…_ “And everything to gain,” she murmured. Father _…Edgar, what should I do?_ The queen blinked. _What would they do? They’d try it. And why am I wondering, anyway? Who knows what they would do, what they’d tell me? I’m here, now, faced with a situation they’ll never face. I’m in charge, and it’s time I start acting like it. Setzer was right—no more crying or fear. It’s time for action, not words._ She set her jaw. “There really isn’t anything else?” Artist and doctor nodded. “Then we go. We all go. If it turns out you’re wrong, Relm, we think of something else. It may not amount to anything, but we have to try everything there is. Gau, get out a map. Setzer, help me move these other books. No, leave the bestiary and the journal. Relm, find some paper and pens. Come on, everyone. We need to figure out where magic would be the strongest, and plan our route. Hurry.”


	12. The Confrontation

The path leading down into the Ancient Castle was musty and cool. Buried deep beneath the mountains that rimmed the northern edge of the Figaro Desert, scorching heat couldn’t reach the crumbling ruin. Neither could sunlight, and the torches they carried seemed pathetically small and dim in the thick darkness.

Terra followed behind Setzer, an old sword bumping her leg as she walked. Relm and Gau trailed her silently, armed and armored. She had sensed a change in the young woman’s demeanor, but hadn’t found the chance to ask what had happened. Gau, for his part, seemed utterly oblivious to the cheery aura surrounding the artist.

They didn’t encounter many beasts. They startled a few bats and sent some other night-blind creatures scattering before the halos of light, but nothing paid them much mind. Most monsters had disappeared when magic went away, and those that had begun as harmless animals returned to their former selves. Although it seemed strange to be able to walk for hours and not have to cut their way through a hoard of monsters, Terra felt glad for the reprieve. A decade of little but sparring left her wondering if she was really capable of fighting even minor enemies any longer. _This doesn’t bode well for the final boss_ , she thought cynically.

“I don’t remember it being this far before,” she said aloud. “Did we take a wrong turn?”

“It’s possible,” Setzer admitted. “It was pretty twisty down here, if I remember correctly, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we just went the wrong way.”

“Should we head back, then?”

“A little bit—gah!”

There was a loud thud, and Terra saw the light from the pilot’s torch vanish. “Setzer?” she called out, rushing forward. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” echoed a rasp. “Couldn’t be better. Watch your step, there’s a cliff nearby.”

The queen froze and called out over her shoulder, “Guys, stop when you get to me.”

After a moment, Relm and Gau appeared in her circle of light. “What happened?” Gau asked.

“Setzer fell off a ledge, but he says he’s okay.”

“Shall I try to climb down and get him?”

“I don’t know. Just a moment. Setzer? Would you like Gau to climb down and get you?” There was no response except for a light scratching on the rock. “Setzer? Are you there? Setzer?”

Suddenly, something latched onto Terra’s leg, and her scream bounced off the rock walls. A few moments later, a hearty laugh joined the echo. “Gotcha!”

Terra kicked into the darkness. “That was not funny, Setzer!”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he replied, still chuckling. “I think I remember this part now. There was a treasure chest on that ledge that must’ve gotten cleared away when Edgar sent people to make sure the monsters were gone. But where I am, it’s about six feet down, if we go right we’ll get to the castle easily. C’mon, I’ll help you down.”

One by one they hopped to the ground, and a few minutes later they found the first of the torches Edgar had installed to make it easier to see what was going on. With the additional light it wasn’t long before they found the castle itself.

It was strange to see the changes a decade had made on the once-regal palace.

With the magic of Odin gone, it had begun to crumble at an accelerated rate. Moss grew on the heavy stone walls, and trickles of water eroded the building as if it were made of chalk. The heavy wooden doors were showing signs of advanced rot. The queen suppressed a shiver and stepped forward into the courtyard.

“Where should we look first?” Relm asked.

“The throne room,” Terra replied, still walking.

“Okay, that was a dumb question. That’s where Odin was, so of course that would be where magic is the strongest.”

They entered the hallway leading to the throne room, gingerly stepping around the tiles from where the wooden supports of the roof had collapsed. Here, too, water carried away stone dust to some unknown location. They stared at the door, and readied their weapons. “This is it,” Setzer said. “If the demon and its summoner are here, we’re fighting. Anyone need anything?”

They shook their heads, and with her free hand Terra gripped the handle on the door. She grunted as she pulled the heavy wood towards her.

Wind carrying grit blasted them as the pressure equalized between the chambers. After the initial rush, they lowered their arms from before their eyes and coughed, then focused on the scene before them.

The first thing Terra noticed was the definite lack of anything resembling a living creature in the room. No one sat on the throne or stood by the walls, and the foul stench that accompanied monsters and demons was nowhere to be smelled. “There is nothing here,” Gau confirmed her thoughts.

“But look at this,” Setzer added, stepping into the chamber. “The throne’s in perfect shape. And the hangings—no holes or anything. Like it did when we were here before.”

The queen nodded and turned to Relm. “You’re right about the magic residue.”

The girl blinked. “I am?”

“You saw the rooms outside. With no magic, they’re falling apart. But this room is practically untouched. I mean, the floors are a little more worn, but other than that, it’s the same. Magic has to be strong in this place…maybe even strong enough to summon a demon.”

Relm smiled a little. “So does that mean that we just have to look in those other places, and we’ll be able to save everyone?”

“That is a little simplistic, but I believe that assumption is correct,” Gau answered.

“Yay! C’mon, everyone, since the demon isn’t here, let’s go look in one of the other places!”

“Let’s check the basement, first.”

They gingerly took the secret stone staircase they’d uncovered during their first visit to the castle, kicking debris out of the way. The air was dank downstairs, reeking of moldering books and stagnant water. They saw nothing out of the ordinary, however, aside from the unfamiliar ruins. “Just a moment,” Terra said as the others turned to go. “I want to see the queen’s statue.”

It took her a few moments to pick her way over to the petrified queen. The statue still wept, and as she brushed a tear from the smooth cheek, Terra could feel the trails where tears had eroded paths into the stone. “You lost someone you loved, too,” she murmured. “Don’t worry. Soon you’ll be back with him.” She wiped her hand on her pant leg. “I pray it works the same for me.”

 

——

 

In Narshe, the cold winds slashed them to the bone, and they found nothing.

On Triangle Island, they allowed themselves to be swallowed by ZoneEater and transported to Gogo’s realm, and they found nothing.

On Ebot’s Rock, they searched every crevasse for evidence of sealed tunnels, and still they found nothing.

Their final destination lay before them, the mouth of the cave gaping before them. Terra prayed they’d find something.

“All right, we’re set,” Setzer said, finishing the last knot that anchored the Falcon to the outcropping of stone. “How are we going to do this, then?”

“I recall two groups were required when we explored here during the war. In all probability the same will be required of us now,” Gau replied.

“I’ll go with you, then,” Relm volunteered.

Gau blinked. “With me?”

“Yeah, you’re stronger than I am, so you’ll definitely be able to protect me. Besides, we spent a lot of time working together to get that information, so we know how each other thinks. It’d be easier to do that than try to get that same rhythm with Terra or Setzer.”

“All right. Shall we go first, then? It was the second group who found Locke, if I remember correctly.”

“No,” Terra said softly. “Celes was in that group and she wanted to see him.”

They were quiet for a moment, then Setzer clapped his hands together. “What’re we waiting for? It’s time to go. Everyone got everything they need from the ship? Potions, weapons, all that stuff?” Three heads nodded, and the group walked in together.

“That’s weird, both doors are open,” Relm said. “What do you think that means?”

“Maybe there aren’t any traps anymore, since magic is gone. Let’s go together, then. “If we run into anything, I’ve got a rope with me, so we could fix it,” the pilot said.

The artist was right. Not once as they traveled through the caverns did they run into any pitfalls or places where another group was needed to press a switch. “What happened?” Terra asked as they stopped to eat.

“Well, if Odin’s magic was protecting the Ancient Castle, maybe there was some other magic protecting the Phoenix magicite, and when magic disappeared, the traps disappeared, too. Like they were illusions.”

“They hurt too much to be illusions. I remember stepping on one of those spikes accidentally, and it hurt,” Setzer said around a mouthful of dried meat.

“I mean, they were real when the magic was here, but when the magic went away, the traps couldn’t operate and they crumbled. Remember how I said that magic holds everything together but we can’t touch it? When the magic was tangible here, magical things had power, but with none of that magic on the surface, anything that worked using magic turned to dust. Like those monsters.”

“I see. So should the traps re-appear as we get closer to where Phoenix was?”

“Let’s hope not,” said Terra, standing and brushing dirt and dust from her behind. “Let’s go.”

Evidence appeared that, while there had been traps closer to the platform where the magicite had rested, something had recently destroyed them. They carefully stepped over shattered spikes and mounds of rubble covering what must have been switches. The queen uneasily unsheathed her sword.

It did not take long for the large platform to appear before them, surrounded by darkness on all sides and lit by a small hole in the ceiling. A small figure was curled in the center, a head of golden hair shone in the light. Terra turned around and faced her friends. “That must be the summoner.”

“We shouldn’t just attack, though, should we? I mean, what if it’s some kid taking shelter?” Relm asked.

“What are the chances of that happening?” Setzer asked.

“We’ll see who it is, first. But if it’s the summoner…” Terra squeezed the hilt of her sword.

The others readied their weapons, all but Gau, who cracked his knuckles. “I have not truly used my abilities for many years, but they should still prove useful.”

Terra strode purposefully onto the platform, and the person looked up at her. A small smile broke across the face, and the figure unfolded itself into a middle-aged woman dressed in a well-cut gown of ice-blue silk in an old style. Her eyes were rimmed with red. “Visitors,” she said. “Warriors. I suppose I should’ve expected someone to come.”

“So you know why we’re here?” the queen asked.

“You want to stop me and kill the demon, probably. Doesn’t seem like you’re going to welcome me to the neighborhood, as you’re armed.”

“It’s not here, I can’t smell it,” Relm whispered quietly. “Demons have ugly smells, and the scent would be stronger if it were here.”

Terra nodded imperceptibly and asked the stranger, “Where is it?”

“Probably out somewhere feeding. That’s part of the deal, anyway—I let him feed when he wants, and he takes the souls I want. But he’s not here right now, so it’d be silly for you to try anything. It’s a part of our contract, too, that if any of you kill me, he goes free on this world. He’s a pretty strong demon, and with no restrictions, I’m sure he could kill whoever he wanted.”

Setzer scowled. “Figures he wouldn’t be here, then.”

“I would be disappointed if I made it easy for you. I’m sure you’re interested in other things, though, not just killing him and being done with it.”

“Why?” Terra asked.

The woman leaned back, hands propping herself up. She stared out the opening for a moment, then said, “I was young then. All he needed to do was acknowledge me. I’m Liliya von Cormter, one of the finest families of Vector, cousins of the Emperor. Vector’s gone now, of course, and I’m sure the world is better for it. My father decided when I should marry someone befitting my station, and the Emperor sent me to Figaro to meet with the king, who had already inherited the throne. I met him, used my finest charms, sang, everything I’d been taught since girlhood that would please the male heart. It was going well, or so it seemed, when he left one morning. His Chancellor and the ladies-in-waiting were quite charming, actually, and kept me entertained during that time. It was six months before he returned. And you know what he did?” She turned her gaze on the warriors in front of her. “He told me he didn’t want to marry, and that he’d never marry anyone from Vector. I went back home in shame. My father said he’d never heard of such rudeness, and the Emperor had me wed to an old man, practically senile, instead. Thirteen years were we wed, our visit to Jidoor saving us from the Esper attack and the Great Breaking, before I was finally freed from that servitude. It took me two years to find a way to get my revenge—poisoning, assassins, and war are too good for his majesty.

But I was lucky. The man I married had an intense love of ancient lore, and I found a copy of an ancient theory. You might be interested in it, if you are who I think you are, Terra, Queen of Figaro.”

“How do you know me?” Terra asked, goose bumps prickling her arms.

“You were near the end of the list, as I recall. If I’d known you’d find your way here, I’d have sacrificed you sooner.”

“This lore, it wouldn’t happen to be Aver’s theory of magic, would it?” Relm asked.

“I’m surprised, girl, that you’ve heard of it. But I suppose it only makes sense; sheer luck wouldn’t have driven you here.” The woman stretched and drew her knees to her chest. “Obviously this theory is true, otherwise I’d have had to resort to toxicology or raising an army. No, I think my plan is much better.”

“What are you going to do to him?” Terra asked, her knuckles white from gripping the sword.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be free soon enough, as soon as the four of you, and perhaps a few more people, if I feel like it, give in to my demon. He’ll regain himself and see what his rudeness has cost. You, your Highness, and your son will be the first he sees. It may be some consolation to you that his first tears will be shed for his family.”

The world glowed red before Terra’s eyes, and she growled low in her throat. Setzer grabbed her arm tightly on one side, and Gau took the other. “Remember about the demon. Under her thrall it is weak, and we may have the power to defeat it. Alone and out of practice, it would kill us,” the doctor murmured.

Liliya smiled. “So, your Highness, are you surprised I know you? And the others...the other girl is Relm Arrowny, one of the finest artists in the land. I believe my late husband had a few of your paintings. He admired your work. And the older man...Setzer Gabbiani, owner of the only remaining airship. I flew on one to Figaro, did you know that? It was fine, the wind in my hair soaring through the clouds...’tis a pity I shall never experience such again. Even if I take your airship back home, to what home can I go? And how should I fly it in the meantime? And you, the younger man. Gau, I believe?” She stood and stepped towards him. “You’ve grown handsome in the years since the war. ‘Tis hard to see that boy’s face from the wanted posters in your jaw...though the eyes are the same. But are you really a man yet, I wonder, or just an inexperienced boy in man’s guise?” She smiled wickedly. “Perhaps I shall leave you for last, and find out the truth?”

Gau’s cheeks reddened. “I should fall on the sword of a friend before allowing such to happen.”

A putrid stench blew in on the wind, and Liliya smiled. “Perhaps you will soon get your chance, young one.” Terra wrinkled her nose, and the men released her to prepare themselves for battle.

A shadowy form in a smoky cape coalesced by the woman, its eyes the same bloody color as the rims of Liliya’s. “A demon dislikes the old ones,” the creature said. “Their memories are faded and tough with age. A demon would prefer a younger taste.”

“I know you would, Maltraum.”

“And this one smelled of chemicals; even his memories tasted of them. A demon does not like such things.”

“Chemicals...?” Terra said. She gasped. “Old Tom?”

The woman pulled a folded paper from her bodice. “I believe so...yes.” Then she turned to the demon. “I know the next name on here isn’t right, but since your last meal left you unsatisfied, perhaps you’d like to change names? What do you think of the blonde one over there?” She gestured at Relm.

“Oh no you don’t!” The artist held her blade out in front of her, but her arms faltered as the beast came closer. Gau shouted, “Gigantos!” He balled his fists and rushed the demon, but flew through its insubstantial form. He winced, and the demon’s form melded with the girl’s. Relm sank to the floor, and Gau grabbed her as she collapsed. “Relm!” he cried. She convulsed in his arms, tears streaming down her face. “Relm, please, wake up,” the doctor shouted, shaking her. “Come, Relm! Fight him, you must fight!” As suddenly as it began she went deathly still. “No...” he bowed his head, “I never got to tell you...”

Maltraum reappeared by Liliya, who was laughing gleefully. “How tragic, to see the end of such a promising life. Don’t worry, Gau, you’ll join her soon enough.” She turned to the demon beside her. “How was she?”

“A demon finds her pleasing. Were there more, a demon could sate himself for eternity. A demon wonders which of these would have pleasant memories upon which a demon could feast?”

Liliya shrugged. “Take your pick, demon. There are three left here, and a few more left before our contract is finished. Feed as you will.”

Rage filled the queen’s breast, and the thought of attacking the witch who had harmed her friends appealed to her. She tightened her fist around the sword and raised it to attack.

“A demon thanks you.”

Maltraum turned his bloody gaze on Terra and she froze. Her sword clattered to the ground as she peered deep into the hood. I’m in his thrall, the thought formed thickly in her brain. _I won’t be able to protect them anymore. I’ll be gone, just like the others. Only Edgar is going to wake up and find me there, dead, and he’ll die, too. Marissa will be alone...no, she’ll be on the list, too. She’ll die calling out my name, her family’s names, and she’ll die without learning about any of us. There’s no hope. It’s all over, and I’ll never even get to apologize for not being there for her._ The demon reached out for her, and she felt a chilly mist in her veins. Through the fog in her mind voices called out to her, and she saw the children she’d protected for so long before her, being slaughtered in turns by Maltraum and Liliya and Phunbaba and Kefka, bodies and blood everywhere. She tried to move, tried to scream, but it was like running through water, everything so slow—

A resounding crack echoed through her mind, and the vision vanished in a puff of smoke. She shook her head and blinked several times. Her backside hurt, and, as she sat up, she realized she’d collapsed on the ground, just as she’d seen Relm and too many others do. “Wha...?” she asked blearily.

“I thought I told you never to make me do that again, your Highness.” Setzer smiled and offered her his hand.

The queen took it and found her feet. “Sorry, Setzer.” She watched as the demon re-materialized by its summoner, then picked up her sword. The pilot followed her as she walked over to Gau. “I know how it works,” she said.

His tear-streaked face turned to her. “How?”

“It feeds on bad memories. If you think negative thoughts or remember bad parts of the past, it has power over you. If you think positive things, there’s no way it can hurt you, like a magnet facing the same pole. If it tries to attack you, think about happy times. Think about Relm.”

The doctor nodded, and Setzer grinned. “Not bad. Now how do you propose we make him solid enough to hit?”

Terra looked at him and said, “I don’t know.”

Over his shoulder, she saw Maltraum materialize. “A demon dislikes losing his lunch.”

“Try again. It’s your responsibility to feed yourself. I just give you a target,” Liliya replied.

“A demon thinks that woman ought to have fewer friends. This is the second time a demon has been denied her.”

“Well, then, you know what to do. Take one of the men instead.”

Maltraum turned and faced them, and Terra caught the fire flashing in its eyes. “He’s coming. C’mon, think of something good.”

She turned her thoughts on the birth of her children, the smile on Edgar’s face as the twins were presented. “Dylan,” he named the boy, “and Marissa for the girl.” He had stroked her sweaty hair and added, “Just as we agreed, love.”

She remembered them riding their first chocobo, Marissa’s laugh echoing in the courtyard, Dylan clinging to the reins, terror on his face. They’d come running up to her when they dismounted, clamoring for her attention as they described their thrill and fear and how they shouted over and over, “Mama, let’s do that again!”

She remembered the wedding, the beautiful gown and the church and her friends surrounding and congratulating her. The weather was perfect, the cake was rich, the joy in her new husband’s eyes filling her with warmth as they waltzed. “I love you, I love you,” he whispered repeatedly that night as they fell into dizziness together.

She smiled as the demon cringed. “Keep doing it, guys! It’s working!”

The demon growled in frustration, then whirled on the first negative aura he could find. Slowly, he advanced on Liliya.

“What are you doing?” she screeched. “If you kill me, you’ll be stuck here forever! The agreement only said they could kill me and you’d be free! If you kill me, the contract is still in effect!”

Suddenly she froze, and the demon sank into her. Liliya’s knees went, and she collapsed.

To Terra’s surprise, Setzer sprinted forward and caught the woman the moment before her head hit the ground. He held her tightly as she shook, a bloody foam trickling from her lips. “Too many bad memories...” he murmured. He looked up at the queen. “What are you going to do? How are you going to save her?”

“Save her?” Terra’s voice was bitter. “I’m going to let her suffer.”

“What?” Setzer shouted incredulously.

“We can’t kill her because of the contract. Besides, she’s tried to kill my friends. She’s tried to kill my family. She’s tried to kill me. Let her feel that pain.”

The pilot looked down at the woman in his arms. After a moment he asked. “So how are you going to kill the demon?”

It was Gau who answered. “If the demon injures her, his power is quartered as a result of breaking the contract. If he becomes solid and takes even three well-aimed blows, I imagine he would return to his realm.”

“So all we need to do is wait,” Setzer said.

“What are you doing?” Terra asked. “Don’t tell me you actually feel sorry for her! After all she’s done, you feel bad that she’s experiencing everything everyone else must’ve experienced?”

“I don’t feel sorry for her. I pity her, yes. And I sympathize. Geez, Terra, think about it. If you’d spent your entire life hearing how wonderful you were and suddenly were rejected by someone, especially someone you liked, what would you want to do?”

“I’d call that ‘maturing,’ and that’s no cause to try to kill the people he cares about! Besides, she didn’t even say she liked him, she was _told_ to marry him!”

Setzer shook his head. “She has to have feelings for him. Otherwise, why try summoning a demon? That in itself is dangerous, and she doesn’t seem the suicidal type.”

The queen’s sharp reply was cut off as the demon began to sift out of Liliya’s body. The woman’s breathing was shallow and quick, and she shook in Setzer’s arms. Maltraum turned his gaze on her. “A demon curses his hunger.”

“He should be weaker now,” Gau said. “Perhaps his form will be more stable, as well, as his summoner is unable to direct him. He cannot feed until she allows him, and thus cannot take a vaporous form.”

“All right. Get the girls out of here,” Terra said.

“What about you?” Setzer asked.

“I’m going to fight him.”

“Then I’m staying here! Edgar’d kill me if I left you to die!”

The queen shook her head. “One way or another, I’m getting rid of this demon. Go! Now! That’s a royal order!”

The men looked at each other, then grabbed the unconscious women and ran.

“Any way I can...” she murmured, watching them leave. “Even if it means letting him in and killing myself.” Terra narrowed her gaze and readied her sword. “Maltraum!” she shouted. “I vow I shall send you back to the nether world!”

“A woman speaks bravely, but a woman speaks foolishly. Does a woman truthfully believe she can defeat a demon?” He wafted towards her, but his movements were awkward.

“This woman believes that you’re having trouble staying afloat. Perhaps if you tried walking you wouldn’t trip.”

The demon laughed, a raspy, evil sound. “A woman would save her breath for fighting. If a woman wishes, she may attack a demon when she is ready.”

With a roar Terra charged Maltraum. Her sword met a slight resistance as it tore through its ethereal form, and a thin trail of a black, oily substance coated her blade. The demon roared with laughter. “A scratch, a scratch! A mere scratch! A demon wonders if that is all a woman can do.” Terra slashed again, again finding the demon to be mostly vaporous. “A demon believes a woman should be shown true power.”

It raised one hand, then hummed a familiar chant. As the energy flew from its outstretched palm, Terra thought Magic? Icewater engulfed her, rusting holes into her armor. Her skin almost burned from the drastic drop in temperature. She gasped for breath as the magic vanished, then squinted up at it. “Magic?” she asked.

“There is power here, and a demon would touch that power to stop a woman’s foolishness. A demon sees no problem with killing a woman who will not let a demon feed. A woman has a choice: a woman may die through a demon’s power, or a woman may die through a demon’s possession. A woman should choose quickly, as a demon has little patience.”

The queen pushed herself up slowly, her mind racing. “I choose differently.” She clasped her hands as if in prayer and began to search the area with her mind. The strongest source of magic in the room was the demon itself, but she knew that would do no good. Flickers and flashes of power arced through the room, and she struggled to grasp those. It must have been this hard for the others using magicite...at least they had something to help them focus, then. She reached out for a snaking line glowing red, and grabbed it tightly. Now, how did it go? Slowly, the words formed in her mind, and she hummed them as they came.

At the back of her mind, a soft voice murmured, “I remember you...why do you wake me? I read your thoughts and it seems you need help, yet there is little I can do to help. I’m no longer strong, and I grow weaker with each passing moment. I long not to let go of this place, and yet you need me, do you not? My power may not be much, but I shall sleep in peace, finally, with my fallen comrades. I shall join them completely, as my last remnants have been unable to do since my body vanished. I, the final Phoenix, grant you my power.”

Words rushed through Terra’s skull, flooding it almost fast than she could speak them. Ancient words that had not stirred air in more than one thousand ears echoed in the cavern, and her figure glowed a radiant red. Her skin prickled and wind rushed in her ears as she spoke the final phrase. “ _Tchora estepis Pinyskhu andombraei_ —FlameWall!”

A wave of flames surrounded the demon, and its screech echoed in the cavern. The pattern of magic Terra had seen in her mind’s eye flowed towards Maltraum, turning the beast into a towering inferno. The last bits of the Phoenix’s power _poofed_ out of existence, burned completely. When the flames and smoke drifted away, nothing remained of the demon and magic but a few stray ashes.

The queen fell to her knees, breathing heavily _. I’d forgotten how much that takes out of me_ , she thought. _Then, I used magic. I can still use magic. But only in places like this..._ She gritted her teeth. _The first thing I’m going to do after everyone is safe and awake is find these places...and use up that magic._

“Terra!” a voice called behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw Relm and Gau running towards her. “Are you okay?” the artist asked when they reached her.

“Yes. I’m fine.” She pushed herself up and winced as the jagged edges of her armor dug into her skin. “You’re okay!”

“Yup! It was like a dream...bad stuff was happening, and then suddenly I wake up and I’m in Gau’s arms.” She giggled. “Not a bad way to wake up, really.”

The doctor blushed a bit, then asked. “What did you do?”

“Where’s Setzer?”

“They’re coming. The woman woke first; that’s how we knew something had happened.”

“They’re okay, though, right?”

“Yes. There th—”

“Terra!” Setzer shouted. He ran up to her and looked her up and down. “You’re alive.”

“I am. Where is she?”

“She?”

“Liliya.”

“I’m here.” The woman stepped onto the platform, pale and disheveled. She winced as Terra’s hand flew across her cheek. “I’m sorry, your Highness.”

“You’d better be,” Terra snarled.

Setzer grabbed her wrist. “She said she’s sorry. That’s more than you ever got out of Kefka, remember?”

The queen jerked her wrist out of his grasp. “She could be lying.”

“She’d be one hell of an actress to be lying that well.”

“She tried to kill us! She deserves to die!”

“She deserves justice.”

“Terra?” Relm said.

“What?” the queen whirled on the girl.

“Let’s go home. The others will be waking up, too. They’ll want to see us. We can take her with us, and then deal with her later. But Edgar and your son and the rest...they’ll want to know you’re okay.”

Slowly Terra nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”


	13. The Rebirth

Terra stood by Edgar’s cot in the basement of Tom Rees, holding his hand. Neither her husband nor son had awoken from their nightmares, though the others had recovered. Locke and Celes had rushed home to be with Dirk, and Relm and Gau were outside talking while Strago rested. Setzer was flying groups of people home. She’d said goodbye to Katarin and Ciara earlier, wishing them a safe journey, just as she had for everyone else. Now, she awaited her own safe journey back, her loved ones in tow.

Sabin knocked lightly on the frame of the open door, then stepped in. “How is he?” he asked.

“He still hasn’t woken up. I’m really worried. Dylan, too...”

The king’s brother put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they will soon. Remember, Edgar was down for several days before you heard about anyone else. It’ll just take a little more time.”

“But Dylan—”

“It will take a little more time,” Sabin said sternly. “If you stop believing that, then it’s all over.”

 

——

 

Relm sat outside in the grass, her bare feet dangling in the water. “Gau, what are you going to do now?”

He looked up at the clouds, as he crouched beside her. “I do not know. I believe I shall return to Mobliz and continue my work as a doctor. I have much yet to accomplish before I can try something new.”

The artist’s heart sank. “Oh.”

“And what shall you do, Relm?”

“Take care of Grandfather, I guess. I don’t really have anything else to do. Paint more, maybe.”

“Oh.” She thought she heard a hint of disappointment in the word.

“Why? What would you like me to do?” she asked, staring at her feet in the water.

A long minute passed, and as she was about to repeat the question, a strong hand cupped her chin and lips met hers. She was so astonished that she froze, unable to respond. Gau pulled back, then looked away. “I am sorry.”

Relm shook her head, licking her lips. A hint of saltiness remained. “No,” she said, putting her hand on his in the grass. “I agree.”

Their lips met again, and there was no surprise.

 

——

 

It was Tom who told her.

Terra surged past him, running to the other room, her heart thumping in her chest. “It can’t be true. It can’t be true,” it thudded.

She practically fell by the cot. “Dylan,” she said, shaking his shoulder. “Dylan, listen to me. Mama’s here, wake up for Mama. Dylan, please. C’mon, Dylan. Wake up, wake up for me.” She buried her head in his chest. “No...” she whispered.

_No!_

 

——

 

Setzer didn’t hear the news until he returned. He’d taken Liliya with him to guard her, but she’d stayed on the when they landed. Something had changed, but he couldn’t tell what. The anger still smoldered in her eyes, but now there was a sort of cowed acceptance. It was a look he recognized in himself, from his childhood. He didn’t like it on her.

The good news came from Relm. She smiled somberly and hugged him quickly, thanking him for his encouragement. “I’m happy for you,” he said, but that didn’t erase the sadness in her smile. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Locke told him the bad news. “She hasn’t come from her room, and it’s been several days. She won’t even let Celes see her. I don’t know what to do. She’s dying, Setzer.”

That was why Setzer was marching through the inn to the room she’d rented. _I’ll slap her again if I have to,_ he thought grimly, though he admitted to himself he had no idea what he’d say.

He stopped before her door, his fist poised to knock, but he stopped. _What would I want to hear? Not “I’m sorry your son’s dead, but it’ll get better?” Thanks a lot._ He sighed. _She’s going to want Liliya killed, too. Before I thought there might be some chance, but...those eyes. I know how she feels. She deserves it, but I can’t just let her die. I worked for them. I know what the Empire does to people, and I know why she did it. She thought revenge would make things better, and it doesn’t. I’m tired of being alone. I don’t want to be alone. So what the hell am I doing? Terra’s kid is dead because of her, and I’m falling for her? Why?_

There was a tap on his shoulder. “Are you going in?” a voice asked.

He turned around and saw Edgar standing behind him. “You’re awake!”

“Yes, and my wife needs me now. Excuse me.”

The pilot moved out of the way and watched as the king entered the room. He saw Terra’s shock as she realized it was him, and she threw her arms around his waist and sobbed into his chest. The man wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair, tears in his own eyes.

Setzer closed the door.

 

——

 

Edgar, King of Figaro, stood on the parapet, staring out at the endlessly shifting sea of sand below him. His hair no longer quite matched the color; the past few days had left its mark in gray upon his scalp. His eyes were darker, and no longer did jewels burnish his breastplate, nor did a breastplate burnish his attire. The plain black shirt and trousers of mourning were his uniform now. He stood still as a statue, bracing himself against the half-wall of the parapet, knowing they’d notice him.

It was not long before footsteps clacked on the flagstones behind him. He straightened, then turned.

“She is ready, your Majesty,” his chancellor said.

“Thank you, Geoffry. The east tower, right?”

“How did you know?”

The king laughed shortly. “A dream.”

No music greeted him as he ascended the spiral stairs, and no silk-garbed lady charmed him eagerly. The woman he met was trim but mature, simply dressed in a cotton shift and hair pulled back in a serviceable braid. She bowed low when he entered.

“M’lady von Cormter,” he said formally.

“Your Majesty.”

The room was silent for a long time, then finally Edgar said, “Why, Liliya?”

“You ignored me, then rejected me. What else was I supposed to do? Father married me to an old man since no one else would take me. My honor was destroyed.”

“I was working with your enemies. How was I supposed to know you weren’t some Vector spy? If you found out anything I was doing, you’d have reported me—your ‘honor’ would’ve required it. And now my son is dead and my wife is crushed for your revenge. Does that make you happy? If you wanted me dead, why did you attack them, too?”

“I wanted to see you suffer! To know how I felt when you rejected me. I wasn’t going to kill you. You were going to wake up and see your family and friends gone, and know how I felt when everyone abandoned me!”

“So you admit you were going to kill them, then.”

“Yes! But—”

“—Now one is dead, and your revenge hasn’t worked completely. Not only is everyone else alive, but I’m not in love with you. Admit it. You thought I’d love you if you did this. Or pretend to out of fear. Fear isn’t love, Liliya.”

There was another long pause, and finally the woman said, “I’m sorry about your son.”

Edgar walked to a window, but didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry about your son,” she said again, louder.

Edgar stared down at the courtyard.

“I said, ‘I’m—’“

“I know.”

“Oh.”

After another silence, Edgar said, “You know what’s going to happen to you.”

“I’ll be executed, won’t I.” It wasn’t a question.

“That’s what my wife wants, and what the others believe you deserve.”

“Yes.”

“Except for one.”

“What?”

The king stared out at the horizon. “Setzer thinks you ought to be spared but forced to pay for your crimes. Not money, of course. Labor. Good deeds. Karma.”

“He is kind.”

“He is kind.”

“And if I chose that path?”

“My wife would be disappointed.”

“She doesn’t know you’re telling me this, then.”

“Setzer asked me last night.”

“You ought to tell her. She deserves to know.”

“She wants you to suffer—that is what Setzer told me. She said that during the battle with the demon.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Would you suffer if you were allowed to live?”

“Would you trust me not to attack you again?”

“Would you attack me again?”

She was quiet for a moment then softly said, “No.”

The king turned to her and stared into her eyes. “Liliya von Cormter, I pronounce your sentence. Tomorrow evening you shall board the Falcon with Setzer and assist him, doing the duties he asks of you and following him in all things. You are to daily repent of your sins and keep a journal of such, and each year come here to report of your annual actions and pay your respects at my son’s grave. Setzer, too, will make a report, and if yours differ in any major way, may my mercy be revoked and my wife’s wrath be upon you. Thus is your sentence pronounced.” She bowed low, and he added, “Tomorrow I will have it made official, before the funeral. I will post a guard at your door, and I vow on my royal honor that no one will harm you before you leave.”

“Even your wife, your Majesty?”

Edgar’s eyes narrowed. “ _She_ is not that kind of person, Lady von Cormter.” He started to leave.”

“Edgar, wait.” He turned to look at the woman. “I’m really sorry about your son. I wish it hadn’t happened that way.”

“Good day, Lady von Cormter.”

He shut the door behind him and didn’t look back.


	14. Epilogue: The Statue

Terra stood in the center of the throne room, her arms stretched wide, the sleeves of her black shirt billowing in the wind she created. She closed her eyes and raised her face to it, letting the dust and pebbles pelt her skin as if to purify her.

Her son was in the earth, on the wind; her daughter wandered woodenly through the castle, lost. Her husband had freed the murderess. “To suffer,” he said. Her husband squelched the rebels to protect the others.

She mourned.

The power of the throne room, the final bastion of magic in this world, filled her the sorrow and rage and determination resonating in her soul. The months that had passed in fear were over. Now, life just was. She hardened her heart so not to cry.

She shouted the words normally murmured, shouted them because she had no other way to convey them. Life, it seemed, was full of polar opposites; like pleasant memories drove away darkness, so seemed shouting to drive away feeling.

“ _Mjolkesk oja Odennd wokorskij_ —Vanish!”

The castle around her rocked, but the winds blew the stone away from her body and lifted her as the floor crumbled away. White light filled her vision, and she tilted her chin up, staring at the open ceiling, the opening sky. The crack in the mountain above widened as if exploding, and the sun poured down on her windsphere.

Slowly, the explosions and crashes died away, leaving her standing in the center of a crater in the mountains. The paths surrounded the castle were there; the route Figaro took on its journey from desert to desert remained unexposed. For the first time in millennia the spot she stood on lay open to sunlight. Dust sparkled in the beams.

The wind died away, and Terra drifted gently to the ground. They’d be waiting for her at the beginning of the cave. Edgar had promised that, and Sabin, poor, heartsick Sabin, begged to come with her. All the apologies in the world seemed not enough for him, nor did all the assurances that they didn’t blame him. She’d ordered him to stay at the castle in her royal voice, insisting she’d be all right. Four times previously she’d come away unscathed; this made five, and she hadn’t wanted to mar that fifth with another death.

She picked her way to the cave, stepping around piles of stone. The debris had flown everywhere, tossed by the force of her final spells: one for a protective wind, one for a destructive power. Flagstones lay scattered amongst shreds of tapestry and sticks of wood; the brass final from a curtain rod lay dented in the dirt. A small piece of stone caught her eye, and she bent to retrieve it.

The face was broken. Only the bridge of the nose, an eye, and a bit of forehead remained. There was a curve to one side where the other eye had been. A little water trickled from the remaining one. Terra cradled the stone face to her chest and bent her head. “A thousand years have you wept for the one you love. Now it is time to be with him again,” she murmured.

She smashed the face to the ground.


End file.
